


Love Comes In Many Forms, But It's Your Face I Always See

by Lacrow



Category: SPY x FAMILY (Manga)
Genre: Birthday, Camping, Cuddles, Drunken Confessions, F/M, First Kiss, Flowers, Fluffbruary, Pining, Road Trip, School Dance, Shopping, Valentine's Day, beach, been waiting to add all these tags, doctor anya, dorks being dorks, hand holding, if there's anything I missed I don't care, mama Yor - Freeform, parenting, snowstorm, soft dad Loid - Freeform, space, two-minute pasta face - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 31,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29130936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacrow/pseuds/Lacrow
Summary: 28 Days, 28 prompts. A collection of drabbles and one-shots for Fluffbruary 2021.
Relationships: Anya Forger & Loid Forger | Twilight & Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess
Comments: 150
Kudos: 195





	1. Parenting Time

**Author's Note:**

> The month of reckoning is upon us! All the domestic fluff I've written the past year has led me to this point- let's see if I can get all 28 days in lmao

As Loid fished out his wallet to pay the cashier, Anya stood beside him and sniffed into his leg.

He sighed as the people in the check-out line watched with prying eyes behind them; it was none of their business as to why his daughter was crying, yet they acted like it was all the same. Were Loid less preoccupied at the moment, he would have had half a mind to turn around and stare at them judgingly in return. Instead though, he collected himself calmly. It was a far cry from when he first became a father (to use the term loosely- he wasn’t very fatherly at the start of his mission) and with all the poise Loid could maintain, he looked down at Anya.

“I told you,” he explained again, “I don’t get paid until tomorrow, and we need groceries.”

“-But you said you would!” Anya peeked out from his pant leg, water trembling in her eyes. “You said you’d get me the new Spy Wars comic!”

“Yes- as soon as I have the money to do so,” Loid shot back evenly. He had the patience to explain it a second time, but a third would surely push him over the edge.

“But papa-!”

Cold eyes looked down at her. Immediately, Anya stopped arguing; instead she swallowed the tearful whine that was making its way up, which resulted in her hiccuping. Anya buried her face once more, sparing herself from both her father’s stare and those of the nosy people watching them. She said not another word as Loid finished paying for the shopping cart full of food, and once he was done she followed him out the sliding doors and towards the parking lot. Their kinda-sorta-sometimes car, an old Trabant on loan from WISE, was parked in a front spot waiting for them.

Anya hung her head the whole way over; she knew she was being unreasonable. Papa always got her what she wanted and Anya was always appreciative of it, but him telling her no this time- for some reason- made her especially upset. Maybe it was because he promised, and him not getting her that comic made it feel like he was breaking that promise. But he wasn’t. He explained why calmly, and yet Anya still wanted it. It didn’t matter that they didn’t have the money for it- she  _ wanted it. _

Anya wiped her face with her sleeve and felt the tears well up again, but for a different reason.

She was upset with herself, and embarrassed that she’d acted the way she had.

As they neared the car and Loid went to unlock it, Anya appeared at his side and tugged on him. Groceries in-hand, Loid took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Assuming Anya was again going to ask for her comic, it took every ounce of restraint he had to not preemptively yell at her. He somehow managed, and instead looked calmly (albeit it annoyingly) down at her.

“I’m sorry, papa-” were the first words out of her mouth, followed by “-please don’t hate me.”

She’d been given up for adoption for far less- simply for being “weird” was enough for past families to abandon her entirely. An ungrateful daughter was something nobody wanted, and Anya didn’t want to give papa any reason to replace her with someone else. Some other little girl that was smarter and better at helping him be a superhero spy. The thought alone made the tears well up again; she loved being a Forger. She didn’t want to go back to the orphanage.

Anya wiped her eyes again. There was a pause, followed by her papa’s voice. “What on earth are you talking about?”

Anya kept her eyes closed as she shook her head. “I don’t need another Spy Wars comic, I got lots at home. You don’t have to get me another one ever again- I’ll be good, I promise-!”

“-Anya, I could never hate you- you’re my daughter,” Loid cut her off, a faint amusement tinging his words. "And I said I’d get you the comic when I have the money, didn’t I? That was a promise.”

Still drying her eyes, Anya looked up at her papa. A smile cut into his usually stern face as he looked down at her, and the sight of it caused her to cry again- but for obviously different reasons. Anya threw her arms around his leg in a hug, and she felt a big hand ruffle up the top of her hair. Hugs were rare from papa, but the security Anya felt under his grasp was always just as good. It was enough to make the bad feelings in her chest disappear as quickly as they had come, and for a little while she just stood there with him in the parking lot.

"No more crying." A gentle command from papa, followed by another. "Now help me get these into the car."

Anya nodded into him; they still needed to get the groceries home. She gave one last squeeze before breaking away and wore a flushed smile as she helped papa load up the car. Loid put away the cart once they were done, and Anya hopped in the backseat to wait for him. 

As Loid climbed in and started to drive off, Anya eyed him through his reflection in the rear-view mirror.

She smiled again; out of all the papas in the world, she was happy he belonged to her.  



	2. Birthday

The lights were off in the Forger house, save for a lonely stove light that peeked around the kitchen corner.

In the dining room waited Loid, along with the man of the hour; a big fluffy dog whose tail kept an even tempo as it smacked the floor in steady rhythm. Bond had no actual idea what was going on, but he could certainly smell something being prepared on the other side of the wall. He could also see the shuffling of shadows through the window above the sink, and his head kept tilting from one side of the other as he tried to zero in on what they were saying. 

“...I want to press the thingie to make it light up...!”

“...Careful! Move your fingers…!”

Bond huffed; he wanted to know what was going on. The pooch looked up at his master. Loid sat there at the table resting his head on a closed fist. The glow of the stove light illuminated half his face as he smirked lazily back down at Bond. 

“You probably have no idea what’s going on,” he mused. “They’re almost done, though.”

Bond nodded (as best as a doggie could) and waited the Loid for Yor and Anya to finish whatever they were doing. The pair sat in the dark for another minute before, suddenly, the smell coming from the kitchen got stronger. Not only that, but also...smoke? Bond got his feet; was there a fire or something? Did mama burn dinner again-!?

“-Okay, Bond! Here we come!” Anya’s voice called out from the other side.

Bond stood still as the light from the kitchen started coming towards him. Both Yor and Anya rounded the corner, and in the latter’s hands was the source of the light; a cake with four candles spaced apart evenly in the center. Bond’s nose started to quiver a mile a minute as they neared, and he sat back down as his tail swept the floor in eager anticipation. 

Was that cake for him?

He stared to pant. A chuckle escaped Loid as his wife and daughter came to him. Leaning down to help her carry the cake and avoid causing a fire, Yor guided Anya’s hand down to the floor as they placed the cake there. Once that was done, Yor stepped back and smiled. Anya, meanwhile, sat on the floor with Bond.

“It’s your special day today, Bond!” Anya beamed. Her excitement transferred over to Bond, who in turn started to bounce in place. “It’s your birthday!”

“Well, we didn’t really know your  _ actual  _ birthday,” Yor explained. “But Anya wanted to give you one anyway, so she asked Loid to bake you a cake.”

“No chocolate, of course,” Loid spoke up. “Also we don’t know your age, so we just put four candles on there.”

“One candle for each Forger!” Anya finished proudly. 

At that, Bond rose to his feet and started to wiggle excitedly. Yor giggled. Loid smiled. Anya went in to blow out the candles on her doggy’s cake and Bond leaned over and pretended to do the same, though in reality he didn’t understand the whole point of candles on cakes to begin with. Once the fire was out, Yor leaned over and picked up the cake to start cutting up slices. Bond was the first to get a piece, followed by Anya, then Loid, and finally herself. 

There were forks already on the table, and once everyone had their slice they dug in. 

Bond gobbled up his chunk in three bites and immediately let out a boof once he was finished. He then proceeded to insert himself between the rest of the family before plopping down to the floor in a loud thud, which resulted in them laughing again.

Tummy full. Body warm. Bond let out a happy sigh as Anya went in to pet him, and he closed his eyes in content.

Four candles. One for each Forger.

No matter how old he got, four would always be enough. 


	3. Cuddles

Yor fumbled with the groceries in her hand as she tried to fish out her keys. Quickly she realized the door was already unlocked however, and with a huff she turned the knob to the front door of her apartment. Immediately, Yor was greeted to a sight in the living room; just in time, too, as she was already mounting a torrent of words to describe how crappy her day had been. Instead, she merely stood in the doorway and let the grime of the day roll off her shoulders. Yor beamed.

“Loid-!” she exclaimed in a whisper.

Her husband sat on the couch, a look of equal parts acceptance and annoyance on his face at being bound to the couch against his will. His prison wasn’t wrought with chains or ties, but rather two little girls who clutched him greedily from both sides. Anya and Becky, his daughter and her friend, both wore smiles as they breathed slowly in unison. The two made it impossible to escape; eyes closed, arms wrapped around him, the pair were relentless even in sleep. Loid was stuck there, and likely had been for at least a while.

He looked up at his wife and sighed quietly. “They snuck up on me. I don’t know how I didn’t see it coming.”

The TV continued playing the movie they had been watching while Yor was out doing errands. A Bondman movie, Anya’s favorite, and one that Becky didn’t mind watching with her best friend. They made it to about halfway through the movie before they decided to transfer from the floor to the couch, and both little girls took up a space beside Loid. 

Maybe the doldrum of the movie made him numb to the fact Anya and Becky were slowly scooting closer to him as time went on. It wasn’t until their heads tucked into his chest that he finally got the message, but by then it was already too late. The girls were passed out, and he was caught firmly in the middle. A prisoner on his own couch.

He looked to Yor for sympathy, but that’s not really what he got. “Oh my- I have to go get the camera!”

“Yor, don’t you dare-!” Loid whispered, aghast. His jaw drop as Yor plopped the groceries on the kitchen table as she darted off to go fetch their polaroid.

A rumble emanated from his chest, one that he quickly had to smother as it caused the girls to stir. Part of him, a small part, would’ve been fine with them waking. The majority of him though had resigned himself to his fate; such was unfortunately the fate of any father, fake or not.

Loid glowered at Yor as she returned, camera in-hand. She smiled as she held it up to take a picture, and a moment later a tiny flash filled the room. The camera churned out a blank photo a moment later, and Yor waited impatiently for it to slowly develop. Loid, meanwhile, tried his best to wiggle into a more comfortable position. Anya wiggled her head into the crook of his armpit; Becky, meanwhile, did much the same.

“Well…?” Loid asked in mild interest. Even being a spy and being used to far more exciting things, polaroid pictures were always a bit of a spectacle.

Yor aired out the picture before taking a peek, and immediately a soft look and giant smile swept across her face. “Oh, Loid-!”

She turned it around for him to see, and it was about what he expected; him looking dull while two little girls clung to him for dear life. The look on his face in the picture summed up how he felt about the whole thing quite well, and yet...even he couldn’t deny it was quite the picture. One of those photos that families took and forgot about, and years later down the road would pull out of the album and laugh about- mostly at the father’s expense.

Yor brought the photo to her chest and melted. A look overtook her that Loid, even with all his experience reading people, couldn’t pin down. All he knew was that it was warm, and a similar feeling started to burn through in his chest. Obviously he tried to swallow it down, but every time he allowed himself to look into his wife’s eyes the feeling would only grow. 

He would deny it was ever there in the first place, not that Yor was one to prod about such things anyway. Instead, after a minute or two of smiling at him, she carefully took up an empty space on the couch by her husband; off to the side, so as to not disturb him and the girls. Yor did however reach over to brush her daughter’s hair out of her face, and in that moment she got closer to Loid.

Her flushed cheeks radiated heat. Red filled his own, and it was at that point Loid relented; maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.


	4. Fireplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eh, I cheated a bit. It's a campfire instead of a fireplace, but I think once you read it you won't mind lol

Of the dozen or so children who went on the class field trip, Damian was the only one who knew how to start a fire.

It caught everyone by surprise- not that they would ever admit as much aloud. The other students were far too busy kissing his boots and praising him to point out how odd it was for the scion of a privileged family to know something that only commoners would be versed in; all except of course for the lonely girl in the back who made her surprise painfully obvious across her face.

“You can make a fire Sy-on boy!?” Anya exclaimed in astonishment, to which nobody turned around to indulge her question.

She jumped up in an effort to see over everyone’s shoulders, but to no avail. The circle of kids standing around Damian were too busy mesmerized by the swiftness of his hands and the confidence he carried himself with. Off to the side, Mr. Green stood with his arms crossed in pride. He smiled as smoke started to pour up from the kindling, and offered Damian praise as the boy jumped back from the newly lit fire.

“Atta boy, Damian!” A deep grin cut into the man’s face. Damian, meanwhile, stood a bit taller.

The survival skills Mr. Green had taught him, Emile, and Ewen were now suddenly coming in handy, and although his friends hadn’t come along on the trip, Damian knew that they would have been equally happy to show off what they’d learned the last time they came out to the Eden woods with their teacher.

The other students all offered their praise, as usual, and Damian basked in it. In the background, Mr. Green started to funnel the other students along so he could show them how to properly set a tent. A line proceeded from Damian to Mr. Green, and at the very end of it was Anya. Once she made her way to him, Damian suddenly lost all that confidence. With one exhale he deflated, and blood rushed to his cheeks as she looked at him with big, green eyes.

“That was so cool!” she exclaimed, a big smile on her face aimed solely at him.

Damian nearly swallowed his tongue. His jaw went slack, but he managed to stammer back anyway. “O-of course! A Desmond is always prepared for anything!”

Her usual friend, Becky, hadn’t come along on the trip. It was just Anya, and for the first time Damian realized it was just the two of them; no friends to get in the way of, well- just in the way. He wasn’t quite sure what that meant, exactly, but it could only be a good thing...right?

Anya congratulated him once more and scurried off with the others, leaving Damian there to sort through the flustered haze of emotions going through his mind at that moment. Mr. Green wouldn’t notice his absence until well into his lecture, but even then wouldn't say anything. Instead, all the man did was take one look at his student and smile.

* * *

Marshmallows. Chocolate. Graham crackers. All the most delicious things he'd ever had; so why then hadn’t he ever had smores before?

It was dark out. The fire that Damian had started was added on to and tended to by Mr. Green, and all the kids sat around it roasting treats as they talked. Despite their usual desire to suck up to him, none of the other kids had the confidence to sit by Damian. Likewise, as he looked across the other side of the fire, Anya sat by her lonesome. 

A blank stare held across her face as she looked down at the marshmallow on her stick. The entire time, Damian’s blush was well hidden by the darkness and the orange flow of the fire. He thought back to earlier about how there was nothing stopping him this time and slowly it dawned on him that if he was going to do something, now would be the time to do it. 

He gulped; a Desmond is prepared for anything.

Damian rose to his feet quietly and walked briskly around the campfire.

Without a word, he sat down next to Anya. No one seemed to notice or care, except of course for Anya; she immediately straightened at his presence, and turned her head and blinked. Damian dared not look at her, and stared down at his own marshmallow instead. 

“It stinks not having your friends,” he mumbled. “Mind if I sit here?”

Anya shook her head. “Nope!”

She gave a quick smile and returned her attention to the fire. Damian cringed- he was kind of hoping for more interaction on her end. Still, he managed to sit next to her and that’s all that mattered. As the seconds ticked by, he slowly started to ease next to her. Anya’s smile didn’t falter, and soon one spread across Damian’s, too.

They didn't really say anything, and that was okay. Usually when they were around each other things were loud and obnoxious; in no small part due to their friends and, well...Damian himself. He always had to put on a face for Emile and Ewen, and he was pretty sure Becky didn't help in that regard either. For once it was just him, Anya, and the crackle of the fire. No acts to follow. No need to call each other names. The quiet was nice. 

They sat like all night, roasting smores until it was time for bed.  


Mr. Green came around and put out the fire and instructed everyone to retreat back into their tents. As everyone started to shuffle away, Damian followed the other boys. He made it a few steps before he heard Anya's voice from out behind him.

"Thanks for sitting with me, Damian." He turned and caught her waving at him. Even in the dark, he could see her smile. "Good night!"

She didn't even wait for him to wave back. Anya turned around and left for her tent, leaving Damian there to stare as she walked away. Were there any source of light besides the moon, the red in his face would have been painfully obvious. Thankfully that wasn't the case; he quickly composed himself and cleared his throat, and quickly went off to his own tent, too. He paused before climbing inside, and offered once last glance behind him before turning in.

He didn't see Anya, or anything else for that matter.

Just a lot of pretty stars in the sky.


	5. Drunken Confessions

Loid sat in the love seat, his usual spot in the morning, and stared down at his coffee.

He had a headache; less to do with his lack of sleep, and more to do with the marathon he’d been running in his head all night. Caffeine gave him only mild relief, as the cause of his distress was still very much present at the forefront of his mind.

He reached down to take a sip; last night had been a doozy.

* * *

A simple date, one he and his _wife_ had been on several times before.

Anya was at home being watched by Franky, freeing Loid and Yor to go out to a pleasant dinner for two. An amicable evening between two adults; though partly for appearances sake, it was also nice to just spend time with each other. Loid had no friends, and neither did Yor really, so their first choice was always to go out with one another. Given the chance to choose someone else though, the answer would likely have still been the same.

Regardless, it was fun. They ate. They drank. Then they drank some more; a bar attached to the restaurant proper, they migrated there once dinner was finished. An hour or two of talking, smiling, laughing, and it was time to go home- mostly due to Yor’s tipsiness. She had a habit of getting...punchy when she was drunk, but thankfully she was on her best behavior. Just cheerful. Loid could handle that.

They walked together to go hail a taxi. Yor shuffled unevenly, swaying side-to-side and giggling. Eyes closed, she wasn’t paying attention; one wrong step and she went tumbling. Thankfully Loid had his eye on her the whole time, and the moment she lost her balance he was there to catch her. He swept her with one arm and grabbed her wrist with the other. Before either of them knew it, Yor was staring up at her husband. She dangled in his arms. He sighed.

Still, an amused- albeit tired- smirk crept across his face. Yor giggled again and reached for the back of his neck. Her strength peeked through for just a moment as she started to pull herself up...but then just as quickly let herself fall back down in his arms. She beamed, rosy and bright.

“I love you, Loid Forger.”

Any pretense of being in-control was shattered in an instant. Loid’s eyes shot wide open. His lips parted. He stared down at his wife and- for a brief moment- forgot that she wasn’t really his wife. She was a beautiful woman, flushed and inviting, whom he shared a house and daughter with. 

Even if she wasn’t really his wife...she was.And she also just confessed to him right there and there.

He buckled. He blamed the alcohol, even though he couldn’t get drunk. In an instant something clicked in his head, and in the heat of the moment he promised himself something; if Yor made the first move- or if she so much as hinted at wanting _him_ to- he’d do it. Whatever it was. Kiss her. Hold her. Maybe more than that. Anything.

-But she didn’t.

She just kept smiling up at him, a glaze in her eyes that told Loid it was probably just the alcohol talking. A faint distance in her stare was all he needed; clearly she didn’t want him to do anything. The seconds ticked by, and he slowly got a hold of himself. He still managed to smile back at her though, only this time it was followed by him pulling her up. 

Yor complied obediently as he directed her to the sidewalk, and she held onto his arm the whole walk over. Still smiling. Still giggling. Even if nothing came out of it, Loid couldn’t deny that her cheer was infectious. He simply settled for that.

* * *

The taxi had dropped them off late. Franky was paid. Anya was tucked in. Loid deposited his wife in her own bed, and then went to go stare at his ceiling for the rest of the night.

Loid sighed at the recollection of it all; he needed more coffee.

He took a sip from his lukewarm cup, and paused as Yor suddenly shuffled in from the hallway. She gave her usual yawn before directing her attention to him; her tiredness was quickly replaced with a look of realization, and fluster came to her cheeks.

“Loid! Um,” she blurted out, as if the cogs in her head were slowly starting to turn. “...I got drunk again, didn’t I?”

Loid cleared his throat. He smiled politely. “A little. Don’t worry, though. Nothing came of it.”

“Really?” Yor asked meekly. A heavy frown tugged at her face. “I don’t remember much after dinner...Are you _sure_ I didn’t do anything?”

Loid’s first instinct was to immediately brush her worries away, but the frown on her face made him hesitate. He sighed a little. “You didn’t _do_ anything...you just said some things, is all.”

Yor’s face went from meek to mortified. “I _said_ things!? What did I say!?”

“Nothing,” Loid shook his head. He just wanted to drink his coffee.

“Loid, please tell me!” Yor begged. “I promise, whatever I said- I didn’t mean it!”

A twinge; for some reason, that comment made him smirk. Perhaps it confirmed his own suspicions from the previous night. Regardless, Loid paused before finally relenting. “You...said that you loved me.”

Silence. Loid looked up from his coffee and found Yor standing there thunderstruck- her eyes were wide and that embarrassed fluster from before had disappeared. Her face was blank, save for the look of shock that peppered it. Loid found it amusing, actually.

What he didn’t realize was that Yor suddenly remembered everything; the dinner, the falling, the confession. It came at her all at once, and she couldn’t process it all. She stood in her own little world, and as the seconds ticked by Loid squirmed in his chair. Clearly she was uncomfortable with the whole thing- at least that’s what he told himself.

“You were just having fun and got carried away,” Loud eased while smiling in reassurance. “I know you didn’t mean any of it-”

“-That's not true!” Yor quickly blurted out, the blush immediately returning to her face full force.

Loid stopped. He sat back a bit and blinked at the sight of Yor looking down at him in frustration; her expression made it seem like he was a fool for thinking such a thing, and yet..?

“...W-what?” he questioned, head tilted.

“I-I mean...uh, well-!” Yor’s eyes suddenly got wider. She recoiled, thought about the hole she’d just dug herself, and somehow quickly recovered. “What I clearly meant to say was...I love- what a wonderful husband you are!”

Loid was silent, as was Yor. The latter waited with bated breath as the former stared up at her. Just as she had looked earlier, his own face went blank; all of his brain power was now dedicated to processing what his wife had just told him. Contrary to his usual mental dexterity, it took him a minute.

So she didn’t mean to say _I love you…_

Instead, she loved him as a husband...

That was a good thing, right- or was that really any different in the first place? For the life of him, Loid couldn’t figure it out. All he knew was that the semantics, however confusing, mattered to Yor. She continued to stare down at him anxiously as if waiting for him to accept her explanation. The slight frown on her face was an expression he didn’t think suited her; he’d much rather see her smile. Maybe that in itself was his answer. 

“I...see,” Loid nodded in understanding- even though he understood nothing. “Well, if you say so.”

“I do!” Yor breathed in relief. Her lips curled once more, and it was at that point Loid finally got one thing right about them.

So long as they were married, fake or not, it was his job to keep that smile on her face. For the mission...and also just because he wanted to.

As far as he was concerned- at least at that moment- it was mission accomplished. Yor offered to go refill his cup, and Loid nodded before handing it to her. She flashed him a warm smile and went towards the kitchen, leaving him there to watch her walk away from him. He lingered on the sight before getting up to go turn on the TV.

His headache was gone now. Maybe it was because of the coffee.

Deep down, though, he knew the real reason why.


	6. Trust

“I’m going to let go now,” Loud cautioned. His breath peppered each word as he jogged behind Anya, which only served to freak the little girl out more.

“What!?” she exclaimed incredulously, wanting to look back but not daring to take her eyes off the road. “Don’t let go, papa!”

“You’ll be fine, trust me,” he shot right back, which only earned him a distressed whine from his daughter. 

Anya gaped as she held on for dear life; the handlebars in her grasp wobbled as she struggled to keep them upright, and her little legs pedaled as fast as she could in order to not fall down. In her view, the only thing keeping her going was papa’s firm grip on her shoulders. The moment he let go would be the moment she tumbled and hurt herself.

Anya was terrified. She’d only had her pretty pink bike for a week or two, and just yesterday the training wheels had come off. Mama didn’t even know they were a thing to begin with; she just assumed Anya would learn like she did and fall down a couple hundred times before getting the hang of it, but papa insisted she have the training wheels put on. Anya thanked him a thousand times over for that...until of course he deemed her ready for the real thing.

Nearby, mama stood ready with the polaroid. She beamed with giddy excitement as the two of them approached, and held her finger on the button in preparation for when Loid finally let go. All the suspense drained into Anya, and the little girl started to lose focus. Her handlebar wobbled. She over-corrected. She started to fall over, but papa was there to catch her.

He held her upright again and pushed her along. Another whine escaped his daughter, and he leaned over. “I have faith in you.”

Anya looked over her shoulder and found papa staring down at her. He wasn’t smiling, but still his face was comforting. Anya couldn’t read his mind at the moment, but knew that he was telling the truth. He was strong, just like mama, and she didn’t want to disappoint him. She could feel the confidence in his grip, and it seeped into her, too.

Papa might have been a liar, but he wasn’t lying about this.

Anya nodded and focused her attention back on the road- the term “road” being used loosely as really it was just the empty tennis courts at the park her and mama used on occasion. It was just the three of them, so even if she did end up falling it’s not like anyone was around to see it...unless of course mama snapped a picture. Anya really hoped she wouldn’t.

Her and papa went around in another circle and started to pick up speed, and it was at that moment Anya knew the moment of truth was fast approaching. She gulped and held onto the handlebars tight, and did her best to sit upright. Papa squeezed her shoulders one last time. Anya braced herself. She closed her eyes-

“-You’re doing it!” mama and papa shouted out in unison.

Anya’s eyes shot wide open. She looked down and watched the lines of the tennis court pass by underneath her, then quickly behind her where papa once was. Sure enough he was no longer there, and was instead standing off in the distance; when had he even let go? 

A smile tugged proudly on his lips, and Anya wished she could linger on the sight. She was too preoccupied, though- what with trying to not fall down and ruin the moment. Anya refocused in front of her and maintained her wobbly balance. She kept to the inside of the court, and continued biking in a slow circle. Mama stood at the ready as she went by, snapping a picture of her daughter as a big trembling smile overtook her.

Anya beamed; with her newfound balance, she opted to continue on her circular track. She waved really quick to papa as he made his way over to mama, and he waved back in amusement. After that she was on her own, though still under the watchful eye of her parents.

“Darnit,” Yor bemoaned, frowning at the picture she just took. Loid came up beside her and looked at it, finding the whole thing blurry.

“It’s fine,” he reassured her with a smirk. “I don’t think we need a picture to remember today.”

Yor sighed. She watched as Anya doubled back around and waved to her; a smile quickly overtook her and she waved back. “I suppose you’re right.”

The two of them stood off to the side and let their daughter have her fun. For the rest of their stay at the park, Anya rode her bike. Loid and Yor were content to simply watch until it was time to go home. And, eventually, they would in fact get their picture.

The three of them together; in the middle, Anya standing proudly with her pretty pink bike. 


	7. Nightmare

“-No! Not that…!” Anya muttered frantically in her sleep. “Leave the peanuts out of this...!”

Loid grimaced beside her. A flat look overtook him as he sat at the end of the couch, his daughter’s feet sprawled out on his lap. Anya’s face was buried firmly in her mama’s lap, and Yor frowned as the little girl twitched from what was apparently a nightmare. Obviously concerned, she stroked Anya’s hair; Loid meanwhile did his very best to ignore her, opting instead to focus on the TV.

Anya had a habit of doing this- of passing out dramatically and becoming dead to the world for hours- so he wasn’t the least bit concerned when she started talking in her sleep. Yor, however- clearly being the more doting out of the two of them- was. She ignored whatever show was on and focused entirely on her daughter. 

“Maybe we should wake her?” Yor asked quietly so as to not disturb Anya.

Loid’s face didn’t waver an inch. “She’s fine.”

“But Loid! She’s having a nightmare!” Yor countered with concern. 

“No-! No-!” Anya shuddered in her sleep. “Anything but the nutcracker-!”

“-Loid!”

The Forger patriarch sighed. This was stupid; the entire thing made his head hurt. But, seeing as how his wife insisted he do something, Loid broke his attention away from the TV and looked down at his daughter. Like Bond during one of his running dreams, Anya fidgeted and drooled from the corner of her lips. She continued to mutter about the peanut apocalypse, whatever that meant, and looked a right mess.

Honestly, these girls would be the death of him.

He shook his head and, instead of waking her, simply laid his hand on Anya’s back. Slowly, soothingly, he rubbed circles into her. His palm was large in comparison to her small body, so it really didn’t take much effort on his part. A few gentle strokes and Anya was already starting to calm down; a few more after that and Loid returned his attention back to the TV, but continued to rub his daughter absently as she slept.

Yor stared at the sight. She watched in astonishment as the twitchy little girl ceased her shudders completely. In a few moments, her muttering stopped- replaced instead with a small smile that started to inch its way across her lips. Yor looked up at her husband to find his flat expression still very much there, a complete disconnect from the comforting gesture he tended to his daughter with.

“Loid!” she whispered loudly to get his attention. He turned to face her, and was greeted with a beaming smile. “That was amazing!”

“What?” Loid raised a brow. She motioned to Anya and he looked down, causing him to shrug. “Is she quiet now?”

Yor nodded. “Not a peep! No more tossing and turning, either.”

“Good,” he replied casually before turning his attention back to the program he was watching.

His hand didn’t cease, even after Anya had stilled. It had a mind of its own; either that or Loid was just very good at multitasking without thinking. Regardless, Yor’s attention was on it the whole time. She smiled at the gesture, finding it warm despite her husband’s feigned apathy. It was a stark contrast from when she’d first met him; back when it felt like he had no idea how to handle a child. Perhaps that was because the former Mrs. Forger handled all the child rearing...and yet, looking at Loid now, Yor couldn’t tell it had ever been a problem in the first place.

“You’re such a good papa,” she said just loud enough for him to hear. Blush filled her cheeks as she beamed.

Loid continued staring at the TV. He gave no indication that he’d heard his wife- all except for one; his hand paused, if only for a moment. Then it just as quickly started up again, leaving no trace that he’d ever heard Yor in the first place. Yor knew of course. She said nothing though, and simply smiled as she continued to stroke Anya with her husband at her side.

For the rest of the evening, there would be no more mention of the peanut apocalypse.


	8. Pet names

It wasn’t so much a pet name as it was a term of endearment.

Wherever they came from, whether it be infatuation or familiarity, her words always softened his blow.

She uttered them one day on accident; slipped through pursed lips, Yor never meant to say them out loud. Loid couldn’t recall what brought it on- all he remembered was that she called him _dear_. The same name he heard her call Anya on occasion, except it was instead directed towards him. His slumped form. His tired frame. The shell of himself as he sat at the head of the table.

Again, he couldn’t remember what brought it all on in the first place. 

A long day at work. A failed mission. Perhaps another comrade fallen in the line of duty.

Any of those things sounded plausible, in fact they’d all happened at least once or twice since taking on Operation Strix. Regardless of the reason though, Loid appreciated the sentiment. Whatever her intention, Yor’s voice never failed to lift his spirits.

_It’ll be alright, dear._

It didn’t hit him that first time, or even the time after that. But when the frequency of those long, trying days increased, so too did her reassurances. When coffee failed to keep him going and he tried his best to hide his stress from Anya, Loid found himself leaning more into the soft hand that gripped his shoulder.

The gentle presence of someone who seemingly understood his problem, even though there was no way she could. The fate of two countries rested on his shoulders...and yet when he heard those soothing words, it suddenly all seemed more bearable. 

“Long day?”

The question came once more. Another evening when Yor came home late from work. Anya was in her room with Bond. Loid, meanwhile, sat in his loveseat. Head resting on interwoven fingers, he stared down at the table in a glaze. A nod is all he gave; a sea of thoughts made any more interaction than that difficult. He was exhausted- but not the least bit tired.

His eyes never left the table. Loid continued to stare, even as he heard a purse being hung and heels coming towards him. He could feel Yor’s presence without even looking up, and soon after her fingers followed. Her thumb rubbed small circles into his shoulder, and he eased a degree.

She leaned down. Her hair draped over him. “It’ll be alright, dear.”

Loid nodded. He didn’t say anything- not at first. He just sat there and hung on to the words his wife told him. She continued to rub his shoulder and stood faithfully at his side. A minute passed, maybe, before Loid took a deep breath. He exhaled slowly, shakily, then eventually pried himself away from the coffee table. He looked up to find red eyes staring down at him, warm as the feeling in his chest that bubbled up at the sound of her voice.

His voice creaked. “I know, dear.”


	9. Compliments

“Let me get that for you, honey.”

The last word warms his tongue. It feels like he’s speaking a foreign language to the target of a mission, but actually it’s just his wife. She, meanwhile, stares at him with the biggest eyes he’s ever seen out of her; wide as dinner plates, red as her sweatshirt, they lock onto him and hold on tight. He knows that  _ she  _ knows why he’s doing this- why he’s making such a display of picking up teacups before dropping them off in the kitchen- but she can’t help herself. 

She’s Yor Forger, flustered wife extraordinaire. 

Meanwhile, sitting at the loveseat, a sour old lady eyes the pair with a suspicious glare.

Their joint-mission at the moment; convince their old-fashioned doddy of a neighbor that they were indeed a loving couple. For weeks the newly-moved-in curmudgeon had critiqued their every move while going out. Whether it was together as a family or either Loid or Yor taking Anya and Bond out on a walk, she always had something to say.

_ You dress your daughter like that? Don’t you two ever hold hands? I’ve never seen you kiss! You’ve never even complimented each other once!  _

It didn’t take Loid long to do some background digging on her; a widower of many years, she clearly had an unbending idea of what marriage was supposed to be. Normally not one to care, Loid nevertheless sought to cease her hounding; less to appease her, and more to reaffirm this whole charade that he and Yor had so carefully orchestrated. The last thing he needed was another old lady threatening to call the SSS on him for some unfounded claim of adultery, or whatever.

Thus was how they ended up here; a tea party for three in the middle of the day. The prospect tasted like poison on the old woman’s tongue, but being old-fashioned she couldn’t refuse a direct invitation. Anya was at Becky’s, Franky was watching Bond, and the apartment was free of distractions. Plenty of room for Loid to work his magic, worry free. 

And he lays it on as best he can. The smiles. The gentle inquiries into her hobbies and how she’s adjusting to the change of scenery. The entire time, Yor sits at his side on the couch and smiles politely. Clearly unnerved, she lets him do most of the talking. She only speaks to their neighbor on occasion, and usually only when prompted.

As Loid leaves to deposit the tea set-up quickly, the old lady makes her move.

“You two seem so cold to each other,” she says crassly, no shame at all in her words. “Something wrong with the marriage?”

Loid pauses; the  _ audacity  _ this woman has catches him off-guard. Such a brazen old bird, and yet he isn’t in the living room to run interference. He hurries his chore, thinking Yor afloat with sharks in the water, and is quickly surprised when he hears his wife chirp back briskly.

“Not at all. I have the most wonderful husband in Ostania.”

A dry snort. Loid can practically  _ hear  _ the hiss in her words. “The bar must be so low nowadays- my Henry was the definition of a loving husband. Kind. Attentive. All I ever see  _ your _ husband do is shuffle in late at night looking like a hot mess.”

Loid cringes;  _ why does everyone always think he’s out cavorting? _ He quickly finishes in the kitchen and starts to make his way back. He mounts a million different rebuttals in the span of a millisecond, but they ultimately go unused. Before he can round the corner, Yor speaks up again.

“Loid works very hard helping his patients, no matter the day or hour. He’s a kind, decent man who always thinks of Anya and I first,” she states firmly with a smile. “I’m so thankful to have him in my life- and also that he’s alive and well so I can be with him everyday, unlike  _ your  _ husband.”

_ Silence. _

Did...Yor just say that?

Flabbergasted, Loid has to forcibly make himself move. With a great deal of effort, he tries to pretend that no bomb had just been dropped in the living room as he arrives. That ends up being very hard to do; his eyes are about as wide as the neighbor lady’s, and despite his best efforts he can’t hide the obvious bead of sweat that hands from his temple.

Yor, meanwhile, smiles cheerfully. She thanks her husband for dropping off the tea cups, to which he meekly nods back in acknowledgement. Across from them both, the old lady seems shell shocked; her jaw hangs wide open as she stares at Mrs. Forger, and the latter acts as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

Loid can’t tell if she realizes or not the social faux pas she just committed, and yet...part of him is thankful for it regardless. Slowly the stun of the moment wanes, and he eases next to her. A reluctant hand inches towards his wife, and it ends up resting on her knee. She of course erupts in blush and dares not look at him, though she doesn’t need to. 

Loid smiles, as does Yor eventually.

The rest of the meeting with their neighbor is quiet. Thankfully.


	10. Cooking

The kettle starts to whistle, and she’s immediately there to retrieve it.

A sigh escapes her lips as she takes it off the burner of the stove, leaves at the ready, and deposits the shavings to let them steep. Automatically she turns around to fetch two cups, the motion being so ingrained in her at this point that she doesn’t even need to think about it. She’s done it so many times- brewed so much tea since becoming Mrs. Forger- that she can’t remember a time when she didn’t.

And that’s the sad part of it all- at least to her, anyway; she’s never brewed so much tea _in her life._

Or cocoa….

Oh, dear! The cocoa!

Yor shook her head; she couldn’t forget Anya’s drink. Quickly she went to go fetch a pot and place it on the still-hot burner. Yor then opened the fridge and filled the pot with milk before digging through the pantry to find Anya’s favorite cocoa powder. It was nearly empty, but there was still enough for at least a few cups. The cocoa that Ms. Frost had brought over one day was still full and unopened, but that one wouldn’t do- for some reason, Anya just flat out hated it.

Yor absently held onto the near-empty cocoa and leaned against the counter. She waited for the milk to start boiling, and let out a sigh.

She couldn’t cook. Everyone knew that. _She_ knew that. It wasn’t a secret, yet it also wasn’t something she ever had to confront before. Yuri always ate her food no matter what, and Yor herself was a peckish eater. On top of that, her actual job consisted of working odd hours and being available whenever. Take-out was her usual choice for dinner.

All that changed after becoming Mrs. Forger, or at least it should have. She did indeed cook more- and she enjoyed doing so- but knew deep down that Loid and Anya would be perfectly fine if she didn’t. They were very nice about it though and always forced themselves to eat whatever she made, yet usually ended up paying the price for it. Calls to poison control were certainly more frequent when she was in the kitchen, that was for sure….

Tea was the only thing she was good at cooking. Brewing. _Whatever_.

It was never a hobby or anything like that. She just enjoyed making a nice, hot cup every once in a while. She would enjoy it on occasion and that was that...until of course she took on the mantle of wife and mother. Unable to cook, sew, or do anything really that someone in her position was _supposed_ to be good at...Yor found an outlet in tea. 

It was simple. It was pleasant. And most of all, she could actually make it.

Cocoa, too, as she found out a little later on.

Anya didn’t like tea. She called it yucky leaf water, and Yor couldn’t fault her for that. She was just a little girl, and Yor knew full well children wanted sweet things. The cocoa was an experiment that- for once- actually ended up working out for her. Anya loved it, much to her mother’s shock, and it quickly became that whenever Yor made tea she also had to make sure that there was a cup of cocoa for Anya as well.

That was perfectly fine with her, of course. Yor loved the feeling it gave her, knowing that her daughter actually enjoyed something she made. 

The same feeling overtakes her again as she takes the milk off the burner and pours to cocoa powder in. She mixes it a bit and lets it sit till the skin starts to form at top of the mixture, and she knows then that it’s ready. She grabs another cup- Anya’s preferred one- and fills it up first. Yor then places it on a serving tray, along with the tea kettle, milk and sugar, and the other cups.

No coffee today. Her husband has been hit or miss when it comes to his usual drink lately, and Yor suspects that it’s because her skills with tea and cocoa don’t translate well to coffee. If such was the case, Loid never said anything out loud, at least; he’d simply tell her he preferred to drink tea with her, which was still nice.

She shuffles into the living room, tray in-hand. Loid and Anya are there; the latter watches TV with Bond while the former reads a book in his loveseat, legs crossed. He unstitches himself upon her arrival, feeling her presence and smelling the drinks in her hand from a mile away. Anya notices a second later as her mama is already placing the tray on the table. She clamors for her cup.

“Hot cocoa!”

Anya beams, and Yor is happy to oblige her. She hands her daughter her cup and warns her it’s hot before the latter bounds away to resume her post in front of the television. Yor then takes up the tea kettle and gently pours out a cup for her husband. Hot steam fills the living room for a moment, then she fetches two sugar cubes- Loid doesn’t like milk in his tea.

She hands him his cup. He smiles appreciatively, a gesture that never fails to get a rise out of her. She suppresses the blush in her cheeks just long enough to fix herself a cup, and promptly takes a seat on the couch closest to her husband. Yor grabs a pillow and uses it as a makeshift table on her lap. She holds it close and simply lets the warmth of the tea seep into her fingers.

“It smells delicious, Yor. Thank you!” Loid voices his appreciation. It sounds genuine.

That feeling from before wells up in her chest again, and Yor smiles back. She sits in the warmth of her living room as her husband and daughter enjoy the drinks she’s made them, and the little doubts that plagued her minutes before seem to melt away.

She can’t cook, but that’s okay. That was Loid’s area of expertise. Yor was perfectly fine with the little niche she dug herself in the Forger house, and nothing could ever take that away from her.

She smiles, and takes a sip.

It's good.


	11. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'VE GOT LIKE 45 MINUTES TO WRITE THIS SO SCREW IT YOU KNOW WHY I CHOSE THIS AGHHHGHHGGHHG

Loid sat there on the couch and stewed. On the TV, the morning news blared, but he paid no attention to it. He was far too hung up on himself and his own stupidity. The string of mistakes that led him to this point kept running on repeat in his head; the botched mission, the resulting chase, and the spectacular car-crash that ended it all in a fiery explosion- it all coalesced into his current predicament. 

Leg wrapped. Foot elevated. Cold compress, applied.

Even now it thoroughly pissed him off just thinking about it; how the hell could he have sprained his ankle?

He’d been shot before! Stabbed! Jumped out of three-story buildings without so much as a scratch, and yet here he was, confined to his living room, forced to sit there and take it easy for the next few days. Not of his own accord, of course. Were it up to him, he’d have been back to work the very next day. Handler assumed much the same, though both she and he were trumped by an ultimately much more higher authority-

“-Loid!” Yor’s voice called out from the kitchen. “Would you like toast with your breakfast?”

“No thank you, Yor.” His response came automatically. He wasn’t very hungry at the moment.

Loid sighed. For being his fake wife, Yor certainly surprised him in how much she cared about his well-being; the moment she found out he hurt himself, she made it her mission to make sure he was taken care of. Before he even knew what was going on, Yor was already on the phone with the hospital. A WISE plant had thankfully answered, though the poor intern probably had no idea what protocol to follow for a concerned wife calling-in on behalf of her husband.

Loid couldn’t fault her for it though- for showing empathy for another human being- which is why he ultimately didn’t fight it as much he first intended to. It annoyed him a little that she took matters into her own hands, but...he couldn’t deny that the warm treatment he received from her was much appreciated. He was used to treating his own wounds and injuries. Actual medical attention was rare for a spy on the job. So when a(n admittedly pretty) lady demands to wrap your leg and dote on you for the rest of the day, you accept the offer. 

And Loid did. Begrudgingly, at first, but he did. 

Yor made sure he was settled in before getting Anya ready for school. She had been spared her mama’s cooking (thank god for cereal) and wished her papa a good day before leaving. Yor then quickly dropped her off at the bus stop and returned home to call-into work and make the two of them breakfast. Interesting smells filled the apartment, and Loid just hoped he wouldn’t have worry about his stomach along with his ankle.

It wasn’t long before Yor shuffled in with two plates in her hands. Eggs. Sausage. And...stuff?

Loid wasn’t sure what all was on the plate, and quite frankly he wasn’t about to ask. He simply smiled appreciatively at his wife as she handed him his plate and sat next to him on the couch. With nothing left to lose he dug in...and was surprised to find that he didn't drop dead immediately. It certainly wasn’t the best tasting thing in the world, but it didn’t make him sick and honestly that’s all he really cared about.

Yor smiled at the fact that her husband didn’t cringe from the food, and they sat and ate breakfast in silence together. Loid finished quickly; apparently he’d been hungrier than he thought, either that or the boredom of not being able to do anything had simply made him peckish. In any case, he placed his empty plate on the table and leaned back. 

“Would you like some tea?” Yor asked gingerly. “I have some on the stove.”

“Sure,” he shrugged. By then he was open to anything.

Yor obliged. She retrieved his tray and went back into the kitchen. Loid, meanwhile, inspected his foot. Even through the bandages he could tell the knot was huge. He sighed in annoyance; yeah, he’d definitely rolled it good. Perhaps Yor was right in making him stay home. The last thing he wanted was to become a liability in the field. Even experienced agents such as himself needed to rest their bodies every once in a while, though he wished his injury didn’t seem so...minor.

A warm smell shook him back to his senses. He looked over to find Yor rounding the table with tea in-hand, a cup already poured and ready for him to sip. He thanked her again, and again she sat down beside him. The scent of chamomile filled his lungs, and Loid drank it in both literally and metaphorically. His throat burned- in a good way- and he exhaled.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” Loid smirked. “You didn’t have to, though.”

Yor was just about to take a sip before suddenly pausing. She blinked. “Well, why not?”

“It just wasn’t necessary, is all,” he explained. “I could’ve managed on my own.”

“But you’re hurt?” Yor frowned. “And you’re my husband? Why wouldn’t I take care of you?”

This time, it was Loid who paused. He tilted his head; Yor talked as if it was all so obvious. Of course she’d take care of him, why wouldn’t she? For a moment it felt like he was the one being ridiculous- like their marriage was real and to think otherwise was inherently stupid- and, maybe, he was. 

He was thinking too much into it...or maybe not enough. Whatever the case may have been, Loid had already resigned himself to being open to anything that day. He said nothing in reply to his wife; a simple smile to let her know he acknowledged her, and to Yor that seemed enough. She smiled back, and they simply sat there together for the rest of the morning and watched TV.

Time quickly got away from Loid. The tea probably had a great deal to do with that, as he quickly started to go cross-eyed from drinking several cups- not to mention his overall lack of activity. By the time he realized he’d fallen asleep, it was already too late.

He opened his eyes, and felt his cheek resting against something soft.

Black hair draped over his eyes, and he realized very quickly that he was tucked into his wife’s chest.

It hit him fast; his first inclination was to jump up and apologize, though several things kept him from doing so. The first was that her arms were around him and held him in place, and once Yor Forger got a hold of you there was no getting out. Second was that she was humming a familiar tune. One he’d heard her hum once before, an old lullaby that never failed to make him think of simpler times. Happy times.

A million things rushed through Loid’s head….though they suffocated under the warmth of Yor’s grasp and the softness of her voice. His ankle throbbed, but the pain seemed dulled. All Loid knew was that he was...comfortable. He didn’t want to move- to ruin this moment by being crass and jumping up- and so he didn’t.

Quietly, he closed his eyes and resumed his sleep.


	12. Domestic Fluff

“Okay, Bond. In this see-nario, you’re going to be the doggie.”

Sitting firmly across from Anya, the fluffy white pooch boofed in understanding. His tail scraped the floor as it wagged in excitement, despite him not really understanding what she was saying. Anya’s games were always fun though, so he’d play along regardless- because what else was he supposed to do?

The other participants in this were far less enthusiastic, however...or at least Loid was. Yor, on the other hand, smiled as she sat on the couch. Hands in her lap, she waited patiently for further instructions from her daughter. Loid did the same from his chair- an obvious film of disinterest glazing over his eyes at his daughter’s attempt at playing make-believe.

“Okay, so we have our doggie,” Anya nodded to herself as if having made some deep scientific breakthrough. “Now we need a mama.”

_ Gee, I wonder who that could be. _ The thought burned like vinegar in Loid’s mind, though he kept the scathing comment to himself. Nothing personal against his daughter, but the pile of papers on his desk could touch the ceiling and he had no spare time to play her games. Still, the incident with Agent Penguinman echoed vividly in his head (it would till the day he died) and he had no intention of repeating the same mistake twice; another family outing as ‘spies’ was certainly not on the table.

Anya pointed to Yor. “Mama- you can be mama!”

Yor grinned. She feigned surprise and clapped her hands together. “Sure!”

“And papa, you can be-” Anya closed her eyes in thought, before snapping her fingers dramatically. “-Papa!”

Loid nodded listlessly. “Fine.”

“And who will you be, Anya?” Yor continued to smile. Loid glanced at her in equal parts disbelief and annoyance; she was really going along with all this, huh?

Anya stood tall and puffed her chest out. “I’ll be Princess Peanut, of course!”

Of course. Loid shook his head as Anya began to explain the set-up for their game of pretend. Princess Peanut was loved by all the people of the kingdom, but the king and queen were mean and locked her away. One day, Loidman- otherwise known as papa- came to rescue her. He adopted her as his own, along with the lady who helped imprison her in the first place, Yorticia- otherwise known as mama. 

Also there was a dog there, because of course there was.

The scenario; Princess Peanut has been home all day (because princesses don’t go to school) and is bored. Mama has been trying to to keep her entertained to no avail, until of course papa walks through the door and everything is better.

“Andddd, scene!” Anya giggled as she ducked behind a couch. She didn't really know what that meant, but she heard it on one of mama’s soap opera’s once.

Loid grimaced as he walked towards the door. Yor continued to sit on the couch and waited patiently for him to start, which took him a moment. He couldn’t believe how degrading this all was, but at least there wasn’t anyone there to watch him. If it would get Anya off his back for the rest of the evening then...so be it.

He turned around and pretended to walk through the door. “Yor, I’m home-”

“-Mama!” Anya corrected as she peeked over the couch. 

“... _ Mama _ ,” Loid reiterated flatly. “I’m home.”

“Welcome home, papa!” Yor giggled. She was enjoying this. “How was work?”

“Fine.” Best to get this over with. “Where’s the peanut?”

Anya popped up once more with puffed up cheeks, clearly wanting to correct him again but letting it slide for brevity’s sake. She instead walked out into the living room and presented herself like the main attraction of a show.

“I’m right here, papa!” she announced. “I wish to play a game with you!”

“Alright, what game.” It was less a question and more a muted plea to make things quick.

Anya closed her eyes in deep thought. Then, a moment later, she perked. “Horsie!”

“...Horsie?” Loid repeated back grimly, to which Anya nodded in confirmation.

He cringed at the thought, yet resigned himself to his fate. He took a deep breath and summoned all of his dignity...only to throw it all away as he dropped down on all fours. Again, no one was watching; just his wife and daughter, and at this point they’d seen him exposed more times than he could count. Still, he dared not look in Yor’s direction. He didn’t need to. He could already hear the creak of her voice as she watched Anya clamor on top of him. Her endearing  _ aww  _ softly filled the room.

Anya held onto the back of Loid’s shirt and pointed forward. “Onwards!”

If looks could kill.

Loid obliged his daughter’s instruction. He scooted forward awkwardly, not quite sure how he was supposed to do this without looking ridiculous (he wasn’t). Anya cheered as papa carried her through the living room. They passed by Bond, who sat at the corner and eyed them with equal parts interest and confusion. When they rounded the coffee table, Yor picked her feet up so they could pass. Her stare briefly met Loid’s, and the latter deflated. 

She covered her mouth in vain to hide the obvious smile on her lips. Happy snickering escaped her, yet somehow she managed to keep from saying anything. At first Loid glowered, but the blush on Yor’s cheeks and the light in her eyes made him quickly relent. 

He continued to feign annoyance. Princess Peanut demanded another lap around the apartment, and a growl escaped her noble steed. Yet, even still, Loid admitted quietly to himself that it was nice to hear her laugh; a giddy giggle that was infectious as it was genuine. He couldn’t recall ever hearing her laugh like that before. 

Maybe- he considered- it was because she’d never been so happy.

The thought stuck with him, and as time went on and the game Anya wanted to play changed...his demeanor did as well. Not noticeably, though; he wasn’t nearly as cheerful as his wife and daughter, yet even still there came a smirk from him that was all but impossible to hide. “Horsie” turned to “House”, and with it came tea-time. Even being forced to sit in an impossibly tiny chair to drink fake tea with his daughter, Loid reluctantly came to accept his fate.

Anya went to offer him and Yorticia another imaginary cup, and they both accepted.

Loid looked to his wife in defeat. She stared back in absolute content- a happiness that matched their daughter’s- and Loid, eventually, would go on to do the same.


	13. Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's so fricken cold right now, this prompt is a sick joke

Yor gulps as she tries in vain to summon up the courage to walk over there and give those ladies a piece of her mind.

It’s about the hundredth time in the span of a few minutes that she’s done so, to no avail. As soon as the idea boils up in her mind, the steam lets out of her just as quickly. She deflates, and huffs in annoyance while watching from afar. Beside her, Anya is giggling- buried up to her chest in a sand prison of her own creation- though it largely goes ignored.

Yor is too focused on the small gathering of women in the distance; the one half-circled around her husband as he sits at the edge of the water by his lonesome.

He wanted to get his feet wet. Anya didn’t. Yor told him to go on ahead, and he had obliged. That’s all it was. An innocent moment turned sour by... _them._

Yor puffs her cheeks up. She doesn’t know why it irks her so- to have the trio of ladies, all admittedly attractive, fawning over her fake husband. Loid has no obligation to her- they weren’t actually married- and yet the sight still makes her seethe regardless. Maybe it was how brazen they were; just the simple fact that they continued to pester him even though he _clearly_ was a married man, fake or not.

True he didn’t have a ring on or anything, but…

Well, she knows Loid well enough to know those were probably the first words out of his mouth.

These ladies just needed to hear it again, is all. The motivation to do so- to tell them herself- finally comes when one of them sits down next to him. Loid flinches, and by then Yor has had enough. Red eyes narrow, and she rises to her feet. A quick reassurance to Anya that she’ll be right back, and she’s off.

The distance between them clears in an instant, but there’s immediately a problem. Once Yor arrives, eyes turn towards her. Loid’s do as well, and a faint red fills his face. The sight of his and everyone else’s stares makes Yor realize she has no idea what to do or say. Part of her does, and the other part can’t bring itself to say the words out loud; back off, he’s mine.

So, she improvises. “Loid, I came to see if you needed more sunblock.”

Loid pauses briefly, and just as quickly latches onto the lifeline she’s thrown him. “Yes, I could probably use some. Thank you, Yor.”

He scoots away from the lady next to him before rising. He gives his signature pleasant smile, though it’s clear he finds the situation anything but pleasant. Yor doesn’t bat an eye as she waits for her husband; he starts off for their umbrella, and she gives the ladies one last narrowed glance before turning to walk away. 

Mission accomplished...but now, another obstacle.

Loid’s already talking to Anya when Yor arrives. They chat, while she in the background starts to psyche herself up to do something she’d done once already; help her husband apply his sunblock. It was innocent the first time- well, it was innocent this time, too, but-

“Just don’t think about it,” Yor mutters to herself.

A bottle rests by the beach bag. Loid grabs it, squeezes some lotion out, and rubs his face. Then his chest. His arms. Legs. Quickly, all that’s left is his back and shoulders. He hands Yor the bottle and turns around. She of course hesitates; the idea of touching him sets her cheeks on fire, but the thought of the ladies from before spurs her forward. She squeezes out some lotion into her hand and starts to rub it into Loid’s back.

Her blush only grows as she continues. 

It surprised her the first time just how good in-shape her husband was; for being an academic he really did take good care of himself physically. Shaped, toned muscles chiseled his back, and Yor can’t help but to test once or twice to see how hard it was.

Rock solid.

She gets even redder.

It doesn’t take long to apply the sunblock, mostly because she hurries. The sooner she finishes, the sooner everything can go back to normal. She lets him know she’s done, and he voices his thanks before spinning around to grab the bottle from her.

“Alright, your turn.”

Yor’s eyes shoot wide open. “W-what!?”

Loid takes one look at her and frowns. “Your face is already burnt. You need sunblock.”

It takes only a millisecond for Yor to realize that her cheeks must look pure scarlet. Loid’s confusing her blush for being burnt, but there’s no way she’s going to admit that out loud. All she can do is stammer and try to voice a rebuttal, but the words get jammed in her throat.

“I-I don’t….Loid-!”

She gasps as something cold singes her shoulders. Her eyes grow huge- when did he even pour out the lotion? Yor’s too taken aback to say anything; she’s a silent victim to her husband’s heavy hands as they start to rub her down. It’s quick- quick as she had been with him- but it doesn’t make it any easier for Yor.

Neck. Shoulders. Arms. He spins her around; lower back and legs soon follow.

He spares her thighs for obvious reasons; even he isn’t so oblivious to find touching her there appropriate, but ultimately he doesn’t need to. The damage is already done as Yor numbingly turns around, eyes boggled and face even redder than when they first started. He hands her the bottle. In a daze, she absently takes it.

“Be sure to get your face,” he smiles.

“Uh-huh…” It’s the only thing she can say at the moment.

“I’ll go get us some drinks,” he tells her, already turning heel. “Be right back.”

He leaves casually, not understanding the kind of state he’d just put his wife in. She silently watches him leave; her eyes linger on his form- particularly the back she’d touched moments before- and the rest of her body turns sun burnt, too.

She takes a deep breath before resuming her post under the umbrella. Anya, still preoccupied with her own adventures, notices nothing. She casually asks Yor to go looking for seashells with her, and it takes a moment for the latter to respond.

“In a little bit, dear…” Yor mutters, her mind clearly elsewhere. “...Mama's just gonna...need a minute.”


	14. Holding Hands/ Valentine's Day

It wasn’t appropriate to just simply walk by her side.

Considering the time and place, Loid would have been remiss to not hold his wife’s hand.

It was dark out. A lingering winter chill blanketed the city. Glowing street lamps and business signs illuminated the faces of couples as they walked through downtown streets. The scene was hectic as it was serene; charming music echoed out from one of the vendors’ shops, all as people hurriedly made their way towards reservations and dinner parties planned weeks in advance. 

Even for someone who was used to stressful situations such as himself, it was a bit overwhelming. Never mind Yor, who- from the moment they stepped onto the busy street- seemed a bit fried. He couldn’t blame her, of course; she had no idea where they were going in the first place. Having to deal with a sea of people was just another thing to worry about, not even taking into account that it was Valentine’s Day.

It didn’t take long for them to get separated. They were walking side-by-side one minute, and before Loid knew it he was by himself. His eyes grew wide as he scanned the spot where Yor had once been and found it empty. He panicked; heart racing, he spun around with the intention to go find her, only to deflate immediately upon seeing her standing off to the side away from traffic.

At that point, the choice was made for him.

Not wanting to lose his wife before dinner even started, he grabbed her hand.

She erupted in blush- he knew she would, hence why he didn’t start with that to begin with. There were many times in the past where holding hands would have been the ideal gesture to convince neighbors they were indeed a loving couple, but such moments were always brushed aside in order to help Yor not devolve into a flustered mess.

This time, though, there was no getting around it. They still had a reservation to make, and if he kept having to stop and look for her they’d never make it.

Yor knew this, too. She said not a word as they started off once more, this time hand-in-hand like an actual couple. It didn’t take her long to adjust...though she ended up returning to her usual blushing self once his fingers laced with hers. It wasn’t enough for him to simply hold her hand; they were husband and wife. They needed to act the part. Interwoven fingers were a sign of affection. Of intimacy. Of lo-

-Yor snapped herself out of it.

All the Valentine’s decorations everywhere were starting to get to her head.

Pink hearts and gaudy carnations littered every vendor and restaurant window. She sighed at the sight of it all; a holiday that never applied to her, and yet she was assaulted with it every year. Up until about an hour ago this year seemed no different, until of course Loid surprised her with a dinner date.

It was all for show. Normal couples celebrated Valentine’s Day, so that’s what they would do, too- not Loid’s words, but she knew that was his thought process. Honestly Yor agreed, though she admittedly felt guilty for not having gotten Loid anything. Had she known he was going through the trouble of setting up reservations somewhere, she’d at least have gotten him some chocolate or something.

Lost in thought, Yor failed to pay attention to her surroundings. Though carried forward by Loid, she ultimately failed to see another man coming their way. Both seemingly preoccupied with other things, they clipped one another. Yor’s shoulder was pushed back by his heavier frame, while he meanwhile kept walking as if nothing had happened.

Loid immediately threw a cold look in his direction. He had every intention of saying something, but 1) the other guy didn’t even acknowledge him and 2) Yor was his priority. She kept walking like it was nothing- more inconvenienced than anything else- but the moment made Loid realize there was no space on this crowded road to walk side-by-side. 

Holding hands wasn’t an option, it seemed, so he’d improvise.

Loid snaked his hand away from Yor. The latter blinked, thinking something was amiss, only to erupt in valentine red as her husband’s hand reappeared on her shoulder. He pulled her in next to him, and she suddenly found herself tucked underneath his arm.

“This way you don’t get hit,” he smiled, and left it at that.

Yor’s lips squiggled in a panicked mess. She wanted to protest- but also didn’t. Fog lingered as Yor exhaled, and she immediately realized that the evening chill was much less so under Loid’s wing. The faint smell of his cologne bled through his jacket, and she closed her eyes briefly to focus on it; she couldn’t place the actual scent, but it reminded her of a safe place. Somewhere warm, where a little girl and her dog were watching cartoons with their babysitter and waiting for mama and papa to come home after dinner.

It reminded her of home- and that point, Yor clutched the frill of her husband’s jacket tightly.

They stayed tucked into one another for the remainder of their walk.

Once dinner was over, they did so again on the taxi-ride home.


	15. Thunderstorm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not a thunderstorm, but given my current predicament I found it appropriate.

“So, if snow is just frozen rain, why isn’t it hard?” Anya asked, brow stitched in deep thought. She pondered her own question while sipping from a steaming mug of hot cocoa.

“Well, because it wouldn’t be snow then!” Becky answered matter-of-factly, waving a finger in the air as if she were an expert on the subject. “It would be hail!”

Anya crinkled her nose. She took another sip. “Okay...but what’s the difference?”

“One’s hard and the other isn’t! Duh!”

“Yeah,” Anya stressed. “But  _ why? _ ”

Becky sat back and considered for a moment; they hadn’t gotten that far in science class yet. All she knew was that rain plus cold equaled snow...but that’s also how you got hail...and sleet...and-?

Becky’s head spun. She set her hot cocoa down on the coffee table in front of her and pulled her side of the joint blanket she and Anya shared tighter around herself. Warm air filled the Forger’s apartment as their radiator worked overtime in the corner of the room. The shuffling of dishes being washed echoed from the kitchen, and the strong scent of coffee filled Becky’s nostrils as Mr. Forger ignored his cup to instead focus on the morning paper he only now had time to read.

It was dark out. The curtains were drawn slightly, just enough for the light inside to leak out and illuminate the steady flurry that fell whimsically to the streets below. Snow blanketed all of Ostania in thick sheets, closing roads and forcing all but the foolhardiest to stay inside. It was serene, yet at the same time eerie. The world seemed still; frozen in time, just like the icicles hanging from the shingles outside.

Becky stared at the scene for a while. Then, she turned her attention to  Anya’s father. “Mr. Forger? Do you like the snow?”

The newspaper obstructing Loid’s face fell, revealing two azure eyes and a raised brow. Messy blonde hair reflected his currently lax attitude, and he looked to the corner of the room as if considering the question- not at all a difficult one, but from the way he acted one might have thought he’d just been asked something deep and philosophical.

“I suppose,” he finally answered a minute later. Despite all his consideration, that’s all Becky got as a response.

With that, he returned to reading his paper. The little girl pursed her lips in a frown, Mr. Forger’s answer not at all satisfying her curiosity. Anya meanwhile was too preoccupied to care; the soft fur of a furry animal called to her, and she giggled as her dog twitched excitedly at the feeling of her socks rubbing against his belly.

“Wanna do the same thing to me?” Anya grinned to her friend.

“Ew, no!” Becky answered back, aghast.

The duo erupted into an even mix of laughter and annoyance. At the same time, the commotion in the kitchen was promptly silenced. The light turned off, and a moment later Mrs. Forger emerged carrying a tray of some tasty baked treats- courtesy of Mr. Forger, of course (she just took them out of the oven).

“Alright, who wants some?” Yor beamed. Eager hands came to grab the pastries as soon as she went to set them down, and she had to swat them away in a panic. “Wait girls! They’re hot!"   


After letting them sit for a minute, Mrs. Forger finally deemed it alright to partake. She smiled as Anya and Becky went to devour the treats, while Bond sat dutifully at the ready to eat any crumbs that might fall from the tray. Yor went back to retrieve her tea from the kitchen before finally assuming her spot next to Mr. Forger. She sat across from him on the couch, and- smiling at the sight of the girls stuffing their faces and her husband reading the paper- she finally let herself take a much-needed drink.

Pastry-in-hand, Anya hopped over to the TV and turned it on. Becky protested, already knowing that she was wanting to put it on Bondman for the five thousandth time. There was a quick argument about who got to watch what, before Anya finally relented and rolled her eyes. “Fine! You can pick the show- just no soap operas!”

“Agreed,” Mr. Forger added, not even looking up from his paper.

With a huff, Becky nodded. She ended up flipping over to a made-for-TV-movie that had gone unwatched many times before, but that now seemed appropriate for some reason. It was plain, dull, and monotonous; perfect background noise for conversation or to simply look at while focusing on cocoa and pastries.

The girls glued themselves to the program. Meanwhile, behind them, Mrs. Forger poked her husband in the knee. Realizing he was being summoned, the paper in front of him fell and he found a smile waiting for him. “I’m glad you don’t have to work today.”

“Me too,” he smirked. Hospital aside, Loid was just thankful other spies and criminals were just as thin-skinned as normal people; the criminal underworld always seemed to come to a halt when it was snowy out.

“I’m sorry for not asking if it was alright if Becky could come over,” Yor apologized quietly, not wanting the little girl to hear. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Loid cocked his head. “Why would I mind?”

“Well, it’s your day off. You probably didn’t envision spending it babysitting,” Yor smiled back awkwardly.

“No, but it’s fine,” Loid chuckled a little. He resumed his reading position as if to signal things were settled.

Yor didn’t take the hint, though. “Also it’s your apartment. I don’t mean to bring in people without consulting you first-”

“-You’re my wife. It’s  _ our _ apartment,” Loid corrected. He glanced at her from the corner of his vision. “Whatever you decide on is fine by me.”

Yor paused. Her eyes grew wide as her husband tore away for the final time to continue reading- sparing her from having to hide the warm scarlet that singed her cheeks. She stared at his form a minute or two longer before casting her gaze at the hot tea in her hands. Light steam tickled her nose, and she eased into a smile.

On the floor, Anya and Becky continued to talk and drink hot cocoa as the TV droned on. Bond wagged his tail next to them, and from their respective chairs Mr. and Mrs. Forger oversaw it all.

Just another evening in winter.

Another evening not soon forgotten.   



	16. Unsaid things

Steam boiled up from a water-filled pot, its contents still not quite ready to be taken off the burner. The smell of pasta mixed with garlic bread and salad, and the chef responsible for it all bounced back and forth between each station in the kitchen. Fully donned in an apron, Loid juggled several different imaginary timers in his head all at once; the sauce should already be bubbling, the salad should be tossed at the very end, the bread needed to go in the oven five minutes before the pasta was ready, and the pasta itself-

On a dime, Loid spun around and fished out a loose noodle with his tongs. Still multitasking, he went towards the sink to knock out some dishes while also testing out how hard the pasta was. He turned the water on as he chewed, and immediately he knew how long dinner would take to finish.

He muttered under his breath, “it’ll be about-”

“Another two minutes?”

Loid immediately stopped. All the timers in his head were suddenly wiped clean, and his eyes grew wide; did somebody just read his mind right now? He absently let the water keep running over his hands as he scanned the room quickly. Anticipating he’d find his daughter- who had a habit of unnerving him at odd times- he soon realized it wasn’t Anya who’d said that, but Yor. She sat on the couch and watched him through the window above the sink. 

“W-what?” Never had there been a moment where he felt more exposed.

“The pasta?” Yor smiled back innocently. “Will it be another two minutes?”

Loid’s stare narrowed suspiciously. He answered back quickly, albeit hesitantly. “Yes...how on earth did you know that? I didn’t say anything yet.”

“Well, that’s your ‘two-minute pasta’ face,” she revealed casually.

Loid titled his head like a confused bird. “My _what?_ ”

Yor seemed amused. “You make faces every time you test your pasta, and it changes depending on how long it has left.”

Loid grew dead quiet. His wife kept smiling at him, while he meanwhile devoted every ounce of brain power to thinking about the issue at hand; had he truly become so complacent that his family could now read his mind? He tried to think of all the times he’d made pasta, but no matter how much he stewed over it he couldn’t comprehend this ‘pasta-face’ Yor was talking about.

If steam could come out of his ears, it would have been at that moment. “Wh-what does that look like, exactly?”

“Hm?” Yor blinked. She thought for a moment. “Oh, you know! ‘Two-minute pasta’ face is kind of like this-”

A contemplative look swept over his wife’s face. She let it hand there for a moment before devolving back into a smile. Loid looked on in fascination.

“I see,” he replied. Finally, he shut the water off from the sink. The less noise to interrupt his questioning, the better. “And...there are others?”

Yor nodded. “Mhm. There’s also ‘five-minute pasta’ face-”

Yor scrunched her face up as if having eaten something unappetizing, and just like before rebounded to her default expression. Again, Loid marveled.

“And my favorite, ‘one-minute pasta’ face-”

Closing her eyes as if focusing on some untasted flavor, Yor nodded in silence. Loid’s jaw hung a little at the sight- not necessarily because of the face his wife was making, but because she so confidently recreated it that he had no choice but to accept she’d seen it dozens of times before. His incredulous expression remained even after Yor dropped the act.

“I never realized I was so-” Loid paused to find the right word. “-Predictable?”

“I don’t think you’re predictable,” Yor shook her head. “I just think you enjoy making pasta and it shows through when you’re cooking?”

Loid chuckled a little. “Enough to have a tell, it seems.”

Yor shrugged with one shoulder. She smiled again. “Maybe to those who care to look. Like me.”

Loid straightened. His wife’s cheeriness was infectious; the longer he gazed at her, the more he could feel the corners of his lips begin to tug. He wasn’t quite sure why he found himself smiling- the implications of him becoming a sloppy spy unable to mask his emotions were anything but warm- though he relented all the same. Yor gave him one last beam before turning her attention back to the TV show she’d been watching, leaving her husband there to think about things by himself.

He’d likely have spent the whole evening there doing just that, until of course he started to smell something a bit off behind him. His eyes widened immediately as realization hit him hard. “The pasta!”

And the sauce. And the salad. And the bread.

His little talk with Yor had lasted longer than expected.

Luckily for the Forgers, all it took was a call to the local pizza shop to get dinner back on track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Crow pulled the same exact thing on me a few months ago and I haven't been the same since


	17. Mutual pining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given the current state of things I can only do something small. So here's a poem.

Red eyes stare hesitantly at the man as he walks, 

the clack of his dress shoes echo above the crowd. 

He's her husband, yet even so Yor balks

at the sight of him. She hopes he can't tell what with the street being so loud. 

Loid smiles back as per usual, 

his charm he can so easily flip on like a switch. 

Yet even so, the feeling is mutual;

He tries in vain to hide a smile on his lips that slowly begins to stitch. 

Pleasant greetings as they come together, 

and together they take off. 

Side-by-side with one another, 

off to pick up their daughter from the bus stop. 

A fake family, their lives are a farce. 

Yet even so, neither can deny the warmth they feel from each other. 

That part is real, and maybe not just that part. 

There's no denying the fact that at the end of the day, they're still truly a father and mother. 

A mama. A papa. A husband. A wife. 

Neither could have foreseen the route their lives would eventually take. 

Regardless, it's still a happy life

for both of them. Born of necessity; a mission with millions of lives at stake. 

Such responsibility. The stress, one might assume, would be too much to bare.

Yet to a random onlooker it would never be noticeable, 

because one would be smiling so long as the other was there. 

Confidently. Proudly. Invincible. Untouchable. 

It was never spoken aloud between them, 

because how could it? 

To admit that that you needed someone when 

you've never relied on anyone else before? Preposterous. 

Unthinkable…and yet, this warmth was something they craved. 

Greedily. Selfishly. If they could put their own wants ahead of everyone else's, they would. 

In their own minds they must have felt depraved, 

wishing for something they wished to partake in, but never truly could. 

At least that's the mask they wear-

how they justify the distance they maintain. 

Yet for all the times they longingly stare, 

it's hard to not buckle and sometimes lose restraint. 

Times such as now. A reluctant hand reaches for the other. 

The latter fidgets, hesitates, and hangs there. 

Red and blue dart left and right, then, slowly, ease towards one another. 

Fingers weave lightly, and the Forger couple stares.

They look away. 

At least for a moment, their guard drops. 

Without words the two agree to stay,

like this…at least until they make it to the bus stop. 


	18. First dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is editing? I don't even know anymore.

Soft music played in the background as children lined the walls of a crowded cafeteria/auditorium. Boys. Girls. They all mostly stayed with their respective genders. Two snack tables, both on either side of the room, became makeshift headquarters for the first year students of Eden Academy. From there they planned their next course of action- or rather tried their best to avoid it.

Nobody was dancing.

Someone had to make the first move...but who?

From his chair, Loid eyed them all with a hint of amusement. Some things never seemed to change. He could recall his own school dances growing up; awkward stares from across the room, dreadfully dull music, and an overall waste of time for all but the most plugged-in of grade school socialites. Even in Ostania- a couple decades after his own adolescence some hundreds of miles away- Loid supposed it was a universal experience, regardless of the time or place.

He mused as much to his wife from across the table. She smiled and nodded, giggling at the shared memory of her own time in school. Relegated to corner seats as volunteer chaperones, they gazed at the sea of children while making small talk. Fruit punch filled their plastic cups, though neither partook for fear of staining their outfits.

“There’s Anya,” Yor sighed, half-smiling and half-sighing.

She pointed to a familiar bob of pink hair that stood out against the crowd. Loid zeroed in on his daughter, finding her standing next to her best friend, Becky. The two were following the others; keeping to the sidelines and staring out at the opposite gender across from them. Judging by her face, she looked about as enthused as when they’d left the apartment a few hours ago- that is to say, not very at all.

Becky pointed to someone. Immediately, Anya’s face soured. She drank from her fruit punch without looking away, electing to stare down whoever was gazing back at her in order to make her disdain known. Loid had a hunch as to who; a quick glance confirmed that it was indeed Damian Desmond. Son of his mission target, and privileged scion of a wealthy, well-to-do family.

Also an awkward little boy who quite obviously had a thing for his daughter.

Loid snorted a bit; he elected long ago to stop pursuing his scheme of forcing the two of them together- less to do with him doubting he could actually pull it off, and more to spare Damian from his daughter. He of all people knew how...difficult she could be. The last thing he needed was for Anya to completely alienate the Desmond boy and set Operation Strix further back than it already was.

So many months, so little progress made.

Yet...even so, Loid appreciated the slow burn of his mission.

Few times he could recall being able to enjoy simple things. Waking up. Making breakfast. Doing errands. Going to ‘work’. Coming home to a (fake) wife and (fake) daughter. Dinner, then bed, and doing it all again the next day. Simple. Routine. He could set his watch by it, and honestly he found it...pleasant.

It allowed him to do things like this; to volunteer for school activities, assuming of course he wasn’t knee-deep in other missions. This particular one, the Eden school dance, needed chaperones for the evening. His wife was fortunate enough to not be busy that evening, so the two of them decided to lend their services. Yor because she thought it would be fun, and Loid because it could give him a better lay out of the campus itself.

Also, admittedly, to make sure that Anya had a good time.

That part seemed a bit in jeopardy at the moment, though it wasn’t just her. Most, if not all the other students were in a stalemate. A live band played a simple tune the kids could dance to, but none seemed to take the bait. They all remained firmly in place like statues, all glancing at either each other or the clock- wondering when it would all be over.

“Maybe we should go out there,” Loid mused, tossing Yor a glance. He smirked at the sudden blush that warmed her face.

“...Maybe,” she repeated back. A smile tugged at her lips, though it fell as her eyes fell on Anya again.

Her sudden frown caused Loid to look at their daughter, too. The little girl seemed put-out; a dull glaze on her face that mirrored the ones around her. No one was having fun- Anya, seemingly, most of all.

Loid considered for a moment. 

Then, just as quickly, an idea popped into his head.

He looked to Yor, then back to Anya. With a nod to himself, he seemed to settle on something. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Yor blinked as she watched her husband stand up, and followed him with her eyes as he made his way across the empty dance floor. She tilted her head in interest as he approached their daughter; she watched as Becky Blackbell turned into a squealing mess next to Anya, while the latter blinked just like her mama. Loid said something to her, and a second later the glaze in her eyes disappeared in an instant.

It wasn’t until Yor saw the two of them walk out onto the dance floor together that she realized what was going on, and in that moment she damned herself for not bringing a camera.

With the band still playing the same simple tune, father and daughter held onto one another. Loid crouched down a bit to hold Anya’s hand, and she stood as tall as she could to meet him halfway. She gazed up at her papa with the biggest grin on her face, and he likewise couldn’t hold back a smile, either.

Yor covered her mouth and watched silently as the two of them stepped side-to-side, more swaying than dancing but enjoying themselves all the same. Part of her wanted desperately to join them, but mostly she was content to watch her husband and daughter from afar. She practically squealed at the sight; they were adorable.

For a time it was just the two of them. Then, slowly, a few kids started to trickle out. Most remained on the sidelines; some snickered at the Forgers making fools of themselves, though they inevitably found their comments falling on deaf ears as the dance floor started to fill up. There still wasn’t a lot of dancing. The kids were too young to mingle with each other, but at the very least they filled up the room and finally started to enjoy themselves.

Meanwhile, throughout the rest of the song, Loid and Anya continued. The first dance either of them ever had with each other.

When the music finally ended, they kept on swaying. At least for another minute longer.


	19. Road trip

The door swung open before slamming into the wall. There was no weight behind it, but still it made a loud enough thud to spook Anya. She yelped, then just as quickly scrunched her face in embarrassment; blush filled her cheeks as Bond trotted in first, his bushy tail wagging as he started to sniff out their temporary accommodations. Behind him, the rest of the family scanned the room.

“Well this is-” Loid narrowed his eyes at the sight of it all. “-Charming.”

A flip of the light switch revealed chips of paint peeling off from the walls. It was a small space, connected directly to the bathroom area where a toilet was located behind another thin door. There was no TV, and only one lone nightstand to accompany the single, queen-sized bed the girls were meant to share. They had requested a room with two beds, but there were none available.

No couch. Not even a chair.

Loid closed his eyes and shook his head. At least it would only be for one night.

He motioned for the girls to enter, and he followed them inside. Locking the deadbolt behind him, Loid then dropped their luggage by the door and let out a sigh. It’d been a long first day out on the road, and cheap motel or not he was just thankful for it to be over. It would be another full day before they reached their destination, and he hoped the following day would go a bit more smoothly than-

Constant pit stops to go pee. A motion sick dog. A wife that wanted to stop and take pictures at every mildly interesting thing they drove past-

Loid’s eye twitched at the thought of it all; if this kept up, he’d likely need a vacation from his vacation. 

“Well...it’s not so bad!” Yor commented as she sat on the bed. She looked around again and shrugged. “At least it’s clean?”

“Yeah!” Anya added as she jumped up beside her. The mattress creaked as she bounced on it a bit. “And there’s enough space for all four of us!”

Loid shook his head. “You mean three of you- I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”

“What?” Anya tilted her head. “If anyone had to sleep on the ground, shouldn’t it be the doggy?”

Loid glanced at Yor. Immediately, the latter’s face erupted bright red as her husband turned back to their daughter. “You girls sleep with Bond. I’ll be fine.”

The aforementioned pooch boofed at the sound of his own name. He panted excitedly and hopped up on the bed with Yor and Anya as if knowing what they were all talking about. Anya frowned as she absently began to pet her friend, while her mama started to unpack all the essentials for the evening. Already it was dark out, and it wouldn’t be long until it was time to turn in; they had an early morning ahead of them, so the sooner they went to bed the better.

Toothpaste and brushes (for both teeth and hair), and their own soaps and shampoos. Bond was given a chew toy to keep him occupied while the rest of the family got to work going about their nightly routines. The Forgers all took turns waiting on one another to come out of the shower, then brushed their teeth at the same time in the mirror. Loid left when Yor pulled out her moisturizer and did her thing, while Anya remained to watch.

There were spare sheets in a small linen closet, and Loid grabbed them to set up his makeshift bed. He lay one layer on the floor, then laid down to cover himself with the other like a sandwich. One of the luggage bags would serve as his pillow for the evening; not the worst set-up he’d ever had to endure as a spy...but it was definitely up there.

The carpet, though clean, had a stale odor to it that reminded Loid of mothballs. He paid it no mind however, and simply rolled over to close his eyes. There wouldn’t be any sleep until the girls were done, so any effort on his part was simply to pass the time. Above him, Bond continued gnawing on his toy as he watched his master below.

A few minutes later, and the bed squeaked once more. “You okay down there, papa?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Loid answered back, not even opening his eyes.

The lights were turned off, a second later there came another squeak; both from the mattress and his wife. “...Are you sure you’ll be alright, Loid?”

“Yes,” he replied one final time. “Good night, girls.”

There came no response after that. All that could be heard from that point on was the rustling of sheets as Yor and Anya tried to get comfortable, followed by the gentle snores of a dog and little girl some half hour later. The whole time, Loid simply lay on his side and waited for sleep to take him as it did the rest of his family.

It came eventually, though not easily.

Evidently, the motel wasn’t well insulated. A chill overtook the room, and being so close to the floor Loid suffered the brunt of it. His thin sheets did little to stave off the cold, and for the first time in a long time he felt himself shiver. There was little to be done about it though, and he focused on his exhaustion until- before he knew it- everything went black.

His eyes opened once more some time later.

There was no light filtering in from behind the curtains. It must have been close to midnight. It was still cold, although...not nearly as much as before.

As soon as he came to, his eyes twisted; it wasn’t what he saw, but rather what he felt. A body that wasn’t there before. Several, to be precise, along with a comforter on him that he recognized as belonging to the hotel bed.

When he finally realized who was there- when his eyes had adjusted to the light enough to see what was around him- Loid exhaled. Tucked in the crook of him was Anya, balled up to fit snugly in the empty space he left. Behind him was his wife- facing the other direction, though pressed up against him with her back. She radiated heat, along with the giant ball of fur at his feet; Bond twitched for a moment as if knowing eyes were on him, but he just as quickly fell silent a few seconds later.

Loid blinked. He looked up at the bed and found it bare and empty. Clearly this wasn’t a dream; the family had migrated to the floor to sleep beside him. Knowing his daughter, she probably had woken up and saw him shivering. That part wasn’t surprising, but what did catch him off guard was Yor; maybe Anya convinced her to come down as well?

Loid stared at his wife for a moment.

Then, slowly, he relented; the reason probably didn’t matter.

She was warm, as were Bond and Anya. Loid wasn’t about to wake any of them up, either, so he was stuck there with them. All in all, not a terrible predicament to be in, he supposed.

With a smirk, Loid lay back down. He took one more deep breath, and tried his best to go back to bed. This time, he found it much easier to do so; it wasn’t long before his eyelids became heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.

There would be no more waking or shivering.


	20. Nursing

“Annnnnd, almost finished-”

The sound of a thumping tail signaled to Anya that her doggy understood the command. Bond lay on his back and waited patiently while the little girl hovered above him. She stuck her tongue out in focus as she dangled a manilla colored strip above his face; a minute later and she stuck it on him lightning quick- a band-aid applied directly to his snout, over a would that didn’t actually exist.

“There! All better!” Anya smiled. “You are now dis-charged from the hospital!”

Bond wiggled. He gave a panting grin before worming his way out from Anya’s grasp, while she meanwhile started to pack up all of her nursing equipment; some scotch tape, a tongue depressor, some cotton swabs she found in the bathroom, and of course a handful of bandaids mama had given her earlier.

Speaking of, mama watched her from the dining room table. She sat in the chair and folded laundry, smiling in amusement as Anya finished with the dog’s examination. Once she was all done putting everything away, Anya then made her way over to Yor.

“Bond is A-OK, mama!” she announced proudly, flashing a salute. “He was broke, but I fixed him!”

“Excellent job, Anya!” Yor beamed with equal pride. She giggled a little. “Once Loid gets out of the bathroom, I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear you want to be a doctor just like him!"

Anya smiled back, yet tilted her head slightly. “I’m not a doctor, mama. I’m a nurse! Ladies can’t be doctors!”

“Hm?” Yor mirrored her. “Why not?”

“Well-” Anya scrunched her face up in thought. “-I’m….not sure?”

“You can be whatever you want to be, Anya.” Yor reassured her. She smiled as the little girl blinked. “I think you’ll make a wonderful doctor some day, and I’m sure Loid will agree.”

Anya blinked. She considered her mama’s words for a moment, then slowly started to nod her head. Yor went back to folding laundry and left her daughter alone to stew on her thoughts. She seemed to take their conversation to heart; a minute or two later and Anya was already on the hunt for her next patient.

It didn’t take her long to find one. As if to reaffirm mama’s earlier claim, the door to the bathroom suddenly opened. Out from it shuffled papa, and on his face was an expression of equal parts relief and discomfort. He walked slowly into the living area, and as soon as mama realized it she put the laundry down in her lap.

“Still your stomach?” she frowned.

Loid nodded. “Yes...suppose it was something I ate.”

Probably mama’s cooking, but no one was going to say that out loud. Regardless, Yor cringed at the comment and elected to hide behind laundry rather than admit aloud that she had poisoned her husband...again. Anya, meanwhile, stared up at her papa. Her eyes narrowed as she remembered mama’s words; with a quick glance to Bond and his fixed-up sniffer, Anya quickly came to a conclusion.

Why wait to be a doctor when she had a patient standing right there in front of her, ready to be taken care of!

“Papa,” Anya announced, causing Loid to raise a brow. “Doctor Anya is going to take good care of you!”

“What...?” he bemoaned, brow raised. “Anya, I’m not really in the mood to play pretend right now-”

“-It’s not pretend!” she shot back with conviction. “Mama said I can be a doctor, and you’re sick right now! As a Forger and a medical pro-fesh-inal, it is my job to fix you up!”

Loid balked. He wanted to argue with his daughter, but wasn’t really sure on how to go about doing that. Loud looked to his wife for support, but all he got was a shrug and a smile in response. “You heard her, Loid. Doctor’s orders.”

Outnumbered and off his game due to food poisoning, Loid sighed. “Fine.”

Seeing as how we wasn’t going to get out of it, maybe going along with Anya’s game would placate her and afford him some peace and quiet later on. At least that was the hope, anyway.

Whether that was true or not remained to be seen; by then he was already trapped, his shackle being the tiny but firm fingers of his daughter as she grabbed his hand with her own. She led him into the living room and patted his usual spot, the loveseat at the head of the coffee table. Loid said nothing and simply complied with her request. Once he sat down, Anya wagged a finger in the air.

“You stay right there and watch TV, papa!” she commanded.

Loid nodded- it took everything he had to not roll his eyes, but somehow he managed. It helped that Anya was nice enough to turn the TV on for him, sparing him from having to get up and go against the  _ doctor’s orders. _

After that Anya ran over to mama again, the latter of whom smiled upon her daughter’s return. 

“Mama, I need you to make some hot tea for papa, stat!” 

“Oh? Sure thing!” Yor beamed. “What kind?”

Anya thought about it for a second, then snapped her fingers when she found her answer. “The one with the funny looking plant in it!’

“Ginger root,” Yor deduced, correctly. “Understood, Doctor Anya!”

Anya flashed mama a salute before running off towards the now-empty bathroom, leaving papa there by himself in the living room. He shook his head at all the fuss, clearly preferring to be left alone to tend to his soured stomach in peace. That option was off the table though, which was only reaffirmed when Anya came dashing in a moment later carrying a thermometer.

Before he could even protest, she stuck it in his mouth.

Loid’s eyes narrowed at his daughter, who by then wasn’t even looking at him; she was too busy staring at an invisible watch on her wrist to pay him any mind. When the appropriate amount of time had passed (whatever Anya pretended it to be) she retrieved the glass instrument and held it up to the light.

“A fever!” she gasped. “It’s all the way to the top!”

Loid took a deep breath. “Anya, you’re holding it upside down...”

Anya blinked. She flipped the thermometer around and inspected it further- then just as quickly shrugged and tossed it on the couch. Regardless of whether or not papa had a fever, she still had to treat his upset tummy first. Luckily, mama was already on it.

It didn’t take Yor long to come out with a steaming cup of ginger tea. Anya cheered as she dropped it off in front of papa, and papa in turn exhaled in relief; finally, something to actually help him settle his stomach. He thanked his wife, but she merely shook her head.

“Thank your daughter. She’s the one who prescribed it!”

Yor flashed him a smile and returned to the laundry, leaving Loid and Anya there by themselves. The volume of the TV was low, leaving a numbing quiet between doctor and patient. Anya stood there and waited for her papa to take a drink. Loid, meanwhile, felt like he was center stage in a performance. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

“Would you...like to sit with me?” he offered, thinking it easier to relax if she wasn’t just standing there staring at him.

Anya immediately beamed. She gave no answer; her response was simply to hop up on his lap, and Loid’s was to cringe at the gesture. He meant sit  _ next to him _ , not  _ on him.  _ He was fairly certain a small child climbing on top of him was no way to treat indigestion, but- as was seemingly the theme for that evening- it was too late to do anything about it.

Anya squirmed to get comfortable. Loid waited a moment before looking down flatly at her. “All done?”

“Mhm!” she smiled back up at him.

For what felt like the 100th time, Loid sighed. He silently stretched his arm out to grab the tea in a way to not disturb Anya, and promptly reclined. Steam rose from the edges of his cup, and Anya sniffed the air; she didn’t like the taste of that ginger tea, but she certainly enjoyed the smell.

Loid blew on the drink, then glanced at his daughter. “So why the nurse game today?”

“Doctor!” Anya corrected. Loid nodded in acknowledgement. “It’s because I want to treat people like you!”

“...Oh?” Loid perked; he seemed genuinely surprised by her answer. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” Anya smiled. “And I want to help you with your missio-”

Anya paused. Her eyes widened, then just as soon rebounded when she realized papa was too preoccupied with trying to drink his tea than notice her little slip of the tongue. She recovered quickly.

“-I mean…” Anya fiddled with her fingers. “...I want to help fix your booboos whenever you come home hurt.”

It was then Loid’s turn to pause. He froze mid-sip of his tea; the cup lowered from his lips as he gazed down at his daughter. She stared back up at him, a hint of embarrassment filling her little cheeks as she did. Loid blinked, taken aback, and realized quickly that his stomach suddenly felt a lot better for some reason. Ginger tea or no.

He eased into a smile. He pried his free hand out from behind Anya and went to ruffle up her hair. She didn’t really like that and voiced as much aloud- there would have been more protest out of her, but papa’s smile silenced her completely.

“I see,” he answered lightly. “If that’s the case, I’d be happy to receive any treatment from Doctor Anya in the future.”

His smile grew when Anya graced him with one of her own. She nodded her head fervently at the open invitation, and sat a bit straighter in papa’s lap as he drank his tea. From the dining room, Yor mimicked the rest of the family. All in all, a cheerful evening in the Forger house.

Papa didn’t have any more tummy troubles that night. And even if he did, his daughter was there to make him all better.


	21. Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's late for work!

Yor clutched the curtain she hid behind. “Um, okay. I’m...coming out now.”

Another voice- her husband’s voice- replied back from the other side. “Alright.”

She glanced at the mirror next to her one last time, her lips squiggling at the reflection that stared back at her. It was the same lady she always saw, except the clothes were different now; pants, uncharacteristically snug on her, and a sleeveless sweater looking thing...she didn’t know what to call it to be honest. It had caught her eye though, for some reason. Maybe because she was so used to wearing sweaters and it was made from the same material?

Also the fact Loid had suggested she try it on probably had something to do with it, too.

Yor gulped; she wasn’t used to shopping for clothes for herself, let alone with a man. Yuri never went with her to department stores, unless of course she was shopping for him, and the only other time Yor had done so she’d had a bullet wound square in her rear side. It had been awkward then, too, but for clearly different reasons.

Now, she was just having a normal day out with her husband...which meant doing all the things that couples normally did.

Yor took a deep breath and summoned whatever courage she had left before throwing open the curtain. Frazzled, she found Loid standing right where she’d left him. Jeans. A jacket. Messy hair. Clearly he didn’t take their outing too seriously, at least not compared to the show they usually put on for other people. He was casual. She was, too...at least until the trying on of clothes, anyway.

Loid scanned her as she walked out. Red stained her face under his gaze, contrasting against the muted colors of her clothes and making her stand out even more than she already was. Yor said nothing, and simply waited for her husband to say something.

“You look great, Yor.” Loid smiled, a genuine beam she saw out of him only on occasion. “Really.”

If her face was red before, it was now pure scarlet.

“Th-thank you, Loid!” she stammered out while trying to hide her blush.

“What do you think?” he asked, gesturing to her outfit.

Yor paused. She glanced at the mirror again. “Um, well…”

It was tight. It was form fitting. Not at all like her usual wardrobe, and yet she found herself feeling fond of it all the same. There was no way in hell she’d ever wear it in public though, or at the very least not on any normal occasion. Maybe for a night out on the town? A dinner party, perhaps? Loid had mentioned once or twice having a social event with the other doctors at the clinic; she could vaguely see herself at his side with champagne in her hand, smiling as he introduced her to his colleagues. His arm around her- purely for show- as they bounced around between other couples. A night like that-

“-I’ll take it.” The words surprised Yor as she spoke them, but she quickly then steeled herself.

Loid smirked. “I’ll have them ring it up then.”

He turned heel to go talk to a store clerk, leaving Yor to watch him leave. Her face was still red and stiff, though an obvious smile carved into her lips at the sight of him. Her eyes darted between him and the mirror once more, and again she sighed.

There was no way she was wearing it out of the store.

* * *

Crowds of people shuffled through the walkways, affording Loid and Yor little space to enjoy their travel between stores.

The department store itself was spread out between several levels, and after having purchased Yor’s clothes they tried their luck at other places, with mixed results. She was satisfied and didn’t want to buy anything else, meanwhile Loid was difficult to shop for. Yor thought it was because he was choosy about the clothes he wore; really it was because WISE afforded him all the clothes he needed and hence there was no need to fill his closet up anymore than it already was.

Hence the aimless walking. Hence them stopping at a mall stand to purchase snacks, simply to give them something to do; a pretzel and separate drinks, they munched while walking slower. Yor stayed glued to Loid as he absently scanned the windows of nearby stores.

Nothing captured his attention, at least not at first.

Also it wasn’t clothes; what really caught his eye ended up being further down the walkway. He and Yor passed by a jewelry store, and as they did his gaze landed on a collection of watches. Loid lingered on the sight for a fraction of a second; too quickly for any average person to notice, though his wife was far above average. She noticed immediately, and glanced at the watch along with him.

“Do you want to look at it?”

Loid scoffed a bit and waved away the notion, drink-in-hand. “I have watches, Yor.”

She frowned. “Yes, but you’re interested in that one. Aren’t you?”

Loid shrugged. “Maybe, but it would be a waste of money-”

Loid paused. He found himself being jerked forward as his wife grabbed him by the wrist. Her grip was inescapable and she became dead-weight, anchoring him in place. Loid raised a brow as he looked at Yor; her frown was even bigger now. 

“Try it on,” she prodded. Her lips pursed in a pouting sort of way. 

Loid only needed to look at that face for a second before ultimately relenting, albeit with a sigh. “Fine, Yor.”

He followed his wife in as she dragged him inside. It didn’t take her long to find someone to help them, and before Loid knew it the clerk was retrieving the watch he’d eyed only a minute before. Despite his feigned apathy, Loid couldn’t hide the glint in his eye from Yor. She smiled as he reached out and took the watch to examine it. 

A fine silver band with gold colored accent. The face of it was blue, almost the same color as his eyes, and the tick that came from it was wholly satisfying.

He wanted it. He didn’t say it out loud, but Yor knew deep down that was the case.

She poked him. Loid glanced at her, and found her smiling. She then looked at the clerk. “We’ll take it.”

“Yor, I’m not-”

“-I’ll buy it,” she beamed, already fishing out her wallet. “It’s my treat.”

The color drained from Loid’s face. “Yor!”

He could do nothing to stop her from handing the clerk her card. Before he knew it, both the piece of plastic and watch were taken away elsewhere, leaving husband and wife there by themselves. Loid frowned a little, but Yor merely smiled back.

“You bought me the outfit, so I’m buying you the watch. Fair?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t need it.”

“I know you don’t,” she answered simply. “But it makes you happy, and...I want you to be happy.”

Loid froze. He blinked, while Yor smiled back at him. He opened his mouth to say something in protest, but found that the words just didn’t come out. He was too busy being silenced by his wife’s infectious smile and her willingness to say something like that. Despite the fact they were a fake couple. Despite the fact that he didn’t deserve to be told something like that in the first place.

She had won. She knew it, and he knew it, so it didn’t come as a surprise that there was no more argument when the clerk came back with the watch. Cleaned, polished, he handed the box over to Loid and gave Yor her card back. They both thanked him, and they walked out the store together. Yor continued to hang onto Loid’s wrist despite longer having the need to do so. He didn’t have a problem with that.

Loid glanced down at the box in his hand, then at his wife.

She smiled at him, and he did the same.


	22. Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 22nd was a free day, but I'm switching it with 23rd's prompt cuz I've got something planned for tomorrow-

Mr. Henderson paused for a moment. He’d been so invested in his current activity that he failed to notice just how long he'd actually been outside. 

The morning sun had long since signaled the coming of afternoon. The heat was more noticeable now, and he raised his long-brimmed hat to scan his surroundings. There were fewer children out and about, many having long since returned to their dorms to tend to homework (or at least that’s what he hoped). Left mostly alone, Mr. Henderson fetched a cloth from his breast pocket and dabbed the beads of sweat that hung from his brow as he surveyed his handiwork; well-trimmed flowers of several varieties, a few potted plants that were already started to bud, and a lonely vine that intertwined between all of it. 

His was a modest little garden; nothing like the immaculate floral arrangements located all throughout the Eden College campus, but then again he never meant for it to be anywhere near that grand. Gardening was a personal hobby, one he fully intended to invest in now that the winter chill had waned and Spring would soon come around the corner

It was tranquil. It was fulfilling. But perhaps most of all, it wasn’t too far unlike his actual profession.

Tending to buds and watching them grow. Such was the life of an educator, and he had devoted a vast majority of his life to said goal. It always filed him with a sense of pride and purpose, so it seemed only fitting then that one of his favorite pastimes would also make him feel much the same way. Both literally and figuratively, he was a gardener; someone who watches over others as they put in the real work for personal growth.

Not to say he was a slouch, of course! Quite the contrary, he liked to lead through example. Diligence. Hard work. _Elegance_. All the things necessary in both teaching and gardening, he exemplified. The same way one cannot expect a flower to bloom without the right amount of food, water, and soil, one cannot expect a child to reach their full potential without a proper role model to guide them. 

The two were also similar in the sense that- every now and again- a particular bud would pop up that was more demanding than the rest of the usual crop...

“Mr. Henderson?” a little girl’s voice called out from behind him, catching him off guard. 

He stood at attention. Before even turning around, he knew who it was. “Yes, Ms. Forger?”

The aforementioned little girl stood there in her Eden school uniform, backpack hanging from her shoulders. Pink hair peeked out from underneath her hat, and she gazed up at her teacher with big green eyes. He likewise stared down at her, waiting for her to get on with her inquiry. Instinctively he expected a ruckus, though quickly found that wasn’t going to be the case; there was no entourage with Ms. Forger this afternoon. Becky Blackbell was not with her, nor was young master Damian. She was by herself, and the moment Mr. Henderson realized this he raised a brow.

“I was wondering if you could help me with something?” she asked innocently.

“Hm?” He narrowed his eyes, intrigued. “You require some kind of assistance?”

Anya nodded. She swung her backpack around and fished out what looked like a couple pieces of paper. She held them up for Mr. Henderson to see; a couple red squares of construction paper, colored messily with what looked like crayon. There were words on them (or at least he assumed they were supposed to be words) but he couldn’t read them. All he could recognize were the seeming titles written in large print on the front- mama and papa.

“I made these for Valentine’s Day,” she revealed.

“Ah, I understand,” Mr. Henderson nodded. “You need a second person to look over your writing-?

“Nope!” Anya smiled. “I’m all done with that. I just wanted to get my mama and papa a few flowers, but I don’t know which kind to get them. Can you help me figure it out?”

Mr. Henderson blinked. A florist question? The notion took him by surprise, though it was a pleasant one. He straightened himself before giving a formal reply. “But of course.”

Anya beamed. Mr. Henderson motioned for her to follow him, and she did so obediently. They walked around the corner to where there were some more potted plants, with several bearing pretty flowers of different varieties. Anya’s eyes grew wide at the sight.

“From what I gather about Mrs. Forger, she seems the shy, delicate type.” Mr. Henderson started to point towards some white flowers in the corner. “Perhaps-?”

He immediately caught off guard by giggling. He blinked, and refocused on his student. She shook her head and smiled. “That doesn’t sound like mama, Mr. Henderson!”

Mr. Henderson paused. Then, slowly, he stroked his chin. “Oh?”

“Actually, I know what to get mama. She likes roses,” Anya nodded to herself. Then her face scrunched up. “I don’t know what to get papa, though. Would he even want flowers? Would it be weird if I gave him some….?”

“I may not be as acquainted with your mother as I thought, but your father seems an upstanding fellow,” Mr. Henderson reaffirmed. He pulled out his monocle and gave it a quick polish before putting it back. “A gentleman such as him would never refuse flowers from a lady, especially not from his only daughter.”

Immediately, Anya perked. Happy red filled her cheeks, and Mr. Henderson smiled politely back. He then motioned to another pot filled with flowers behind him. “I believe these would best suit your father.”

Anya peeked around her teacher’s leg to get a better look. There she found white flowers like the ones before, only these were scarlet in the middle. The pattern in them looked almost like dark red suns and the flowers themselves were tiny, but plentiful. Stars filled her eyes as she gazed at them. Meanwhile, Mr. Henderson reached down to pluck a few out- as close to the soil as possible so as to ensure they stay fresh for at least a few days.

“These are Sweet William,” he explained while handing them to her. Anya grabbed them carefully. “Known far and wide for their gallantry; a fine flower for a fine man.”

Anya stared at the flowers in awe. Her lips quickly squiggled into an ecstatic grin, and she aimed it squarely at her teacher. “Thank you, Mr. Henderson!”

“It’s my pleasure, Ms. Forger,” he smiled back earnestly.

Anya immediately started to pull out her backpack. She opened up the zipper and went to fish out the valentine's she made for mama and papa- then suddenly paused. A look of realization overcame her, and Mr. Henderson tilted his head at the one-eighty she suddenly pulled. 

Anya looked up at him, gobsmacked. “I’ve got flowers for papa, but where am I going to find roses for mama!?”

Mr. Henderson paused as well. He thought for a moment; there were no roses in his garden, however…

Hesitating only for a moment, Mr. Henderson soon leaned forward. With a serious look on his face, he motioned for Anya to come close. She did so reluctantly, and held her ear to his mouth as he whispered to her.

“There’s a rose bush in front of the auditorium. Take one while the prefects aren’t looking.”

Anya’s jaw fell. She swiveled her head towards her teacher to make sure she wasn’t hearing things, and ended up finding an amused Mr. Henderson gazing back at her. He held a finger to his lips, and Anya quickly realized what was going on. She already knew; this conversation never happened. 

With one last smile, Anya nodded. She thanked her teacher again before carefully placing the flowers he gave her in her backpack, and she waved at him before peeling out to go find the rose bush. Mr. Henderson waved back and continued to do so until she disappeared from sight. Soon it was just him again, left alone with his flowers.

Even he was surprised at how easily he was willing to break school rules in that instance. Perhaps it was the fact that Ms. Forger had come to him in her hour of need, or that her inquiry aligned with his own self-interests? He gave it a bit more thought, then eventually shrugged.

It could’ve been those things...but more than likely he just had a soft spot for the Forgers.

Happy with that explanation. Mr. Henderson fixed his wide-brimmed hat once more and continued to tend to his flowers. 


	23. Just Keep Playing in the Snow

Two flashlights waved in the kitchen behind Anya as she stared out the window. Beside her sat Bond dutifully; all the commotion going on in the house put him on edge, though Anya being at ease kept him relatively calm. His tail wagged slowly as, together, they watched the snow flurry outside. White flecks were illuminated only by the faintest hint of light, the last remnants of sun that were already obscured to begin with. It was only mid-afternoon, but already it felt like late evening. Everything was dark, inside and out.

There were no lights on. There hadn’t been for most of the day. Since early morning, they- along with most others in Berlint- had been without power.

Anya heard a growl from the kitchen. “Where did I put those batteries?”

“Did you look in the bathroom?” mama asked lightly.

Another growl. “Why would they be in the bathroom?”

A sigh. The shuffling of heavy feet. Anya glanced over her shoulder as papa fumbled through the dark. Flashlight in-hand, he made his way over to the bathroom. Even without the lights on, Anya could see the annoyance in his face. He’d had that look since he realized the power would not be coming on that night, meaning he now had to scramble to find sources of light for them to function. 

While he went to find batteries, mama emerged from the kitchen. A matchbox in hand, she started to bounce around the apartment and light all their candles. Anya piped up and asked her if she needed help, but mama merely shook her head and smiled.

“I’ve got it, Anya.” The strike of a match illuminated her face. “You just keep looking at the snow.”

The little girl nodded. She continued sitting on the floor with Bond beside her. A blanket draped over both of them, they refocused on the pretty view just outside their window. Anya was wholly invested in the sight; she’d seen snow before lots of times, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful to her. That was especially true now that there was nothing else to do but look at it. She was mesmerized by it.

The way it fell. Floated. Caught the light, however fleeting, and just as quickly let it go.

Anya smiled- then she heard an exasperated call from down the hallway.  _ “Yor, why were the batteries in the bathroom? Along with cans of food and a flare-?” _

“In case there was a typhoon and we needed to live in the bathroom for a few days,” mama called back casually, not taking her attention away from the candle in her hands.

Silence. There were no words spoken, but Anya could definitely hear the thoughts in papa’s head. They weren’t very nice.

She sighed, then went back to looking at the snow.

* * *

The power didn’t come on the next day. Or the day after that, in fact.

It ended up being one of the worst snow storms in years. All of Berlint and most of Ostania found themselves without electricity; suddenly fireplaces became a hot commodity (pun unintended) and those with them found their doors being knocked on by desperate neighbors asking to share the heat. Being in an apartment, the Forgers had no such luck in that regard- nor were they in any situation to start fires in the middle of the living room, though Anya probably would have found that exciting.

It was alright in the beginning- and truthfully, it was throughout the whole ordeal. They had blankets. They had food and running water. Mama and papa’s works were shut down (both their real ones and their cover ones) so they stayed home the whole time and everyone was fine and healthy. Still, it was...boring. Mind-numbingly so. The only things for Anya to do were read and play pretend with Bond, but after a few hours of reading and acting like a spy things became dull again.

What she really wanted to do was go outside. To play in the snow as it continued to fall and cover the sidewalk below in pristine, porcelain white.

Several times she caught herself staring down at the street. Her eyes would light up at the thought of going down there and making snowballs to toss at Bond, and she wanted nothing more than to ask her papa to take her down and do just that. But-

“-All this damn snow.”

He didn’t find it anywhere near as fun as she did. Several times, Anya could hear her papa mutter under his breath. He was silent for the most part, electing to spend most of his time doing crossword puzzles on previously discarded newspapers or glossing over books he’d already read before. His thoughts however were a different matter entirely. As usual, his mind raced with all sorts of things- but where as he was usually consumed by ideas about Operation Strix, he was instead concerned with a whole host of other things.

_ The food will only last another day or two.  _

_ If it gets any colder, I’ll have to go and find more blankets. _

_ The old ladies next door must be having a rough time. I should go check on them. _

He never said any of this out loud. His eyes were always glued to something in a vain attempt to ease his mind, though the results were mute. Mama was also concerned, though not nearly as papa; her thoughts were mostly focused on uncle Yuri and how he was doing, since there was no power and thus no phone access to check up on him. Knowing him though, he was probably alright. You couldn’t kill uncle Yuri even with mama’s cooking, so she knew he was invincible.

Still, knowing all that, Anya couldn’t help but to feel guilty about wanting to go outside and play. People were having a bad time, and she wasn’t- she was safe with mama and papa, so why was she complaining about being bored? In her head, Anya told herself she was being selfish. She should just stay quiet and play with her toys, and be thankful that everyone was okay.

Yet even still, Anya found herself looking at the snow. 

She’d stare at it longingly, then- after realizing what she was doing- tear her eyes away. She’d chastise herself, then go back to playing pretend with Bond.

* * *

By the third day without power, Anya couldn’t help herself.

Much like that first night, she sat with Bond and stared out the window. This time they huddled together under two blankets, as inside wasn’t much warmer than outside at that point. The snow had stopped falling by then; the skies were still gray and ugly looking, but at least the storm had passed. All that remained was the sea of white below, and she wanted nothing more than to go jump in it.

Tear it up. Throw it around. Make a snowman out of it, or snow angels, or both.

It was a happy thought, yet Anya found herself frowning. She looked over her shoulder and found papa there in his usual spot. A scowl hung from his face, just as it had for the past few days. He was busy thinking about all the troubles the snow brought and how to fix them, and Anya was again reminded of how selfish she was being.

She didn’t want to be selfish. She wanted to be good, but-

“-Papa,” the word escaped her lips before she realized what she was doing. Papa was wrenched from his thoughts, and Anya’s eyes widened; she hadn’t intended to cal out to him, but now that she had his attention there was no going back. Anya looked to the floor. “Is it bad for me to want to go play in the snow?”

“Hm?” Papa blinked. He focused on Anya and furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

Anya pointed outside. “I know the snow’s bad, but I still think it’s pretty. So...does that make me a bad person for liking it?”

Papa fell silent. Anya continued to stare at him, and for a moment he did the same. His eyes grew wide. A look of surprise overcame him, and a moment later he looked towards mama. They both exchanged quick glances, but Anya wasn’t in the right headspace to glean their thoughts. All she wanted was a reply from papa.

Eventually, she got one. He returned his gaze, only this time the look in his eyes was much softer. He afforded her a smile, something she hadn’t seen from him in days. “No, you’re not a bad person, Anya. In fact, I’m a little jealous of you.”

Anya balked in surprise. She sat straight. “You? Jealous of  _ me _ , papa?”

His smile grew bigger, and mama joined him. “Mhm. You can still see the beauty in things even in bad times. That makes you a very good person, Anya.”

Anya blinked. She looked at papa, then mama, then Bond, and finally her eyes fell to the floor. She let papa’s words sink in, and a moment later a tiny smile spread across her lips. She looked up at him again. “...Does that mean we can go out and play in the snow?”

Papa sighed; not an exasperated one like he’d let out all week, but rather it sounded more like a chuckle. “Yes, we can go play in the snow.”

Immediately, Anya hopped to her feet. A giant grin swept across her face, and she cheered before running over to papa. Before he could protest, she jumped up and threw her arms around his neck. Papa froze, though his hesitation was fleeting. He soon gave her a quick hug back, and Anya promptly released him. She backed away to let him get up, and papa looked to mama.

“We’ll be back,” he smirked.

Mama beamed at them both. “Of course. Be careful, you two!”

Already donned in their thickest coats, there was no prep time needed. All papa had to do was grab Bond’s leash, and with that they made their way towards the door. Closing it behind them, Anya skipped beside her papa as the three of them walked down the hallway together.

The smile never left Anya’s face, and it only got bigger as they finally walked outside and onto the untouched roads of alabaster white.

Bright snow reflected meager sunlight, and it sparkled beneath Anya’s feet.

She looked up at papa. He gave her a smile, and motioned for her to go ahead. He let Bond off his leash, and together Anya and the dog went off to play. Papa watched from the sidelines, and resigned himself to stay out as long as possible.

Anya deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to my favorite egg!
> 
> It's no secret these past couple months have been rough for me- last Sunday especially. As I spent the day trying to wrack my head around what to write for you, I suddenly recalled what you had said about the snow and feeling guilty for being excited about it. For some reason the thought made me happy- I guess because, even with everything going on in your life, you could still find joy even during the bad times. Needless to say my day got a lot better because of that, and from now on I'm going to try and approach my life the same way. Anytime things get overwhelming or stressful, I'll stop, take a deep breath, and tell myself; just keep playing in the snow.


	24. Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I failed in my goal to post every day, but that won't stop be from finishing the mission! It's double post time!

“Woah, look at that one!” Anya exclaimed, pointing to the bright streak shooting across the starlit sky. “It’s so big!”

Loid nodded. He leaned back in his chair a bit and afforded his daughter some room. She squirmed in his lap, coke bottle in-hand, and gaped absently at the main attraction for the evening. They, like many other families that night, had set up in the park to watch the falling stars. Chairs were everywhere, and for the most part things were silent; people were too mesmerized by the display to do much talking.

Beside Loid and Anya sat Yor, covered in a thin blanket to keep the evening chill out. Bond lay down at their feet, unable to truly see but happy to be outside regardless. His tail wagged as Anya giggled above him.

She pointed to another one. “They go away so fast!”

“Mhm,” Loid replied. “They’re traveling at thousands of kilometers an hour.”

“Woww~” Anya replied wide-eyed. She continued to stare at the sky. “How fast does the car go?”

“The Trabant?” Their loaned car from WISE. Anya nodded, and Loid snorted. “About 60 an hour.”

Anya’s jaw dropped even more. She looked to her papa and he smirked at her amazement; meanwhile she tried to work out in her head just how fast that was. She started to pull out her fingers to try and count, then quickly realized she would need a lot more fingers. Anya promptly gave up and went back to watching.

“These ones are called me-tee-ors, right?” Anya asked with a scrunched up face as she tried hard to remember science class.

“That’s right, good job.” Loid commended. He was surprised she actually retained something from school. “When they’re in space they’re asteroids, but when they break through our atmosphere they're meteors.” 

Anya stiffened. She looked back up at her papa, and he figured right away that his explanation probably went over her head; he could see the gears crunching in her head, and if it were possible for ears to smoke then hers would have been doing so at that very moment. He simply sighed and patted her head. Baby steps.

“So knowledgeable!” Yor commented with a smile. Loid turned his head towards her. “Reminds me of Yuri when we were kids.”

“Ah, you mentioned he liked science,” Loid smiled. “Did he ever want to become a teacher?”

“Mm, maybe,” Yor replied thoughtfully. “He was always very good at school, so he could have. I don’t ever remember him mentioning it, though.”

“I could be a teacher, mama!” Anya announced proudly, which earned her a flat look of amusement from papa. “I know what an asterisk is!”

“Asteroid, Anya-” Loid looked to Yor, and the latter stifled laughter. “-Asteroid.”

Bond stretched lazily as the family continued their meteor shower watching. Around them, other families were coming and going; it was getting late, but it wasn’t a school night. Loid had made it clear that once Anya started to nod off they would take their leave- which is why she drank soda to keep her going. The caffeine did it’s job, keeping the little girl spunky far past which was normally her bedtime. 

It was all the same Loid. True she was up and energetic at such a late hour, but that would just mean her inevitable crash would hit her twice as hard. Already he was suspecting she was nearing her limit; they’d been out there for about an hour, and her eyelids seemed to grow heavy. Whether she realized this or not, it didn’t stop her from trying to power through it all the same.

A yawn came from her, and Anya smacked her lips dramatically. “Do you think we could ever go into space, papa...?”

“It’s possible,” Loid shrugged. He gazed up at the sky. “Cosmonauts have already walked in space, so- maybe someday.”

“Mm,” Anya replied. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, then looked at Yor. “Would you ever want to go into space, mama...?”

Yor tilted her head and smiled. “Well, assuming that was an option...probably not.”

“Why not?” The question didn’t come from Anya, but rather Loid. He raised a brow in her direction, genuinely interested in her answer.

Yor shrugged in response. “Well, why would I?”

“Adventure, I suppose,” Loid smirked back. “Learning new things. Going to strange places. Things like that.”   


Yor’s smile grew. “I suppose I just don’t find it necessary. Everything I could want is right here on earth with you two.”

Loid paused. Caught-off-guard, he stared back at Yor’s curled lips as a heat suddenly came into his cheeks. The evening chill abated, if only under his wife’s warm smile. Loid’s gaze faltered, eyes cast towards his daughter who remained seated in his lap; he half-expected green eyes to be staring dolefully at him and Yor, but was relieved to find her already nodded off. 

In the span of a couple minutes she’d succumbed to her tiredness. Her little head tottered a bit before landing softly against his chest, and Loid sighed. He adjusted to make her more comfortable, then looked back at Yor. Her expression was still there, though this time aimed more towards their daughter. Loid opened his mouth to say something, then just as quickly let the words die before they had a chance to make it past his lips.

Instead, he just refocused on the shooting stars up in space.

A place that reminded him of his own life as a spy; an unknown world where anything could happen at any time, for any reason. Where you weren’t sure if you’d ever make it back, and all you ever had to look forward to was a vast, dark loneliness.

From the corner of his vision, he glanced at Yor. She was also looking up at the sky and the starlight reflected in her scarlet red eyes, almost as brightly as that permanent smile on her face. Her answer from before echoed in his thoughts, and they stuck with him.

It was at that point he agreed with her; space suddenly didn’t seem all that appealing anymore.


	25. Sharing bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double post, double post, double post-

Well, this was awkward.

Yor stared up at the ceiling- the only action she could take, given that the rest of her was paralyzed from fear. Not from any external threat or anything, but rather the thought of waking up Loid. Her husband. The man she played house with for appearance’s sake, and who- at that very moment- now played the role of her bedmate.

A heavy arm secured her around the stomach. Messy blonde hair filled the corners of her vision as he-

-Yor couldn’t even bring herself to even think it...

This wasn’t just awkward, it was  _ embarrassing _ .

Her lips squiggled as he shifted suddenly. A small squeak escaped her as he pulled himself in closer, if that were even possible. The precarious position she was in became even more so when she looked down at herself; again seeing nothing but hair, though certainly  _ feeling  _ his cheek planted firmly in her chest.

If she could overcome the panic going through her head at that moment, she probably could have felt the smile on Loid’s lips as it formed against her thin nightgown.

It took everything Yor had to not lose it completely at the thought; Loid Forger, her stoic husband, was a cuddler.

…How could this have happened?

To be fair, she knew the answer to that question. It came in the form of Becky Blackbell coming to their apartment for a sleepover with Anya. An innocent playdate between friends, and one that necessitated her and Loid bunking together for an evening to keep up their charade of a happy, loving couple. A charade that, admittedly, wasn’t all that hard to maintain.

When it got late, the girls got ready for bed. Loid and Yor followed them right after, brushing their teeth together and doing their nightly routine like all couples do. It wasn’t bad, especially since- at that point- they’d done it a hundred times before. Really the only thing that was different about their routine versus an actual married couple’s was that they normally went into separate rooms afterwards.

Except, of course, that night.

Yor liked to think she did an excellent job of keeping composed; she didn’t turn into a flustered mess when Loid tore the sheets away, or at the very least didn’t hesitate to climb into bed when he motioned her to. The bed was big enough for them to keep their space, something Loid claimed right at the start, though Yor would quickly find out that wouldn’t be the case. 

The lights turned off. They took their distant posts at opposite ends of the bed, and wished each other good night.

Then, a few hours into it, Yor realized a couple things.

One was that, no matter the size of a bed, people usually gravitated towards the middle. It’s something most people inherently know, though don’t usually think about. For Yor it was hard not to, considering that- when she suddenly opened her eyes at the feeling of something warm against her- Loid had fallen prey to this universal constant, too. 

Second was that, again, Loid Forger was a cuddler, and a rather….ardent one at that. Given how well composed he usually was, Yor never would have pegged him for one- never would have guessed that he of all people was someone who craved physical contact, consciously or not.

He was always so distant; respectfully, of course. Their relationship was purely platonic. He never did anything to put her in a bad spot or make her feel uncomfortable. Hand-holding, hugging, kissing...all of those things that couples are supposed to do, he never asked her to . She always appreciated him for it, even though deep down she’d have been fine with it.

It was all just an act, right? Just two grown adults who happened to be playing house.

Though maybe that was why she found her current situation so off-putting; there was no act here, not unless Loid was actually awake and he was just faking it. Absently Yor tested that theory by wiggling her arm that wasn’t buried underneath Loid’s torso away and went to poke him in the head.

He was dead to the world.

Still smiling, though.

Yor whined a bit. She didn’t like this at all...or, no, that wasn’t the right way to describe it. Or maybe it was? For the life of her, Yor couldn’t figure it out. There wasn’t anything inherently bad or inappropriate about this, save of course for the placement of Loid’s head. That, and...she hated how exposed she felt at the moment. Despite her nightgown covering her all the way to her ankles, she’d never felt more naked in her life. Showers included.

As if sensing this, Loid wiggled against her. Yor stiffened as one of his legs folded over hers, and she sucked in air. Like all the silverware stacked neatly in the kitchen, Loid left little space between them with his spooning. He mumbled incoherently in his sleep, then became silent once more. Yor trembled.

Part of her wanted to wake him covertly- perhaps shift in such a way that, when he woke, she’d already be on her side and he would just think he moved a bit too close to her before correcting himself. It could work. It wasn’t like she didn’t have the strength to toss him off whenever she wanted to, anyway. In truth, she could make him move whenever she wanted. She wasn’t trapped.

But the vast majority of herself resigned to stay that way. Not because of any sort of guilt about possibly waking him up or embarrassing him or something, but rather because she...didn’t find it all that necessary. She was frazzled, yes, but the more Yor calmed herself and gave it some thought, the more she realized that she was...comfortable.

Loid was warm. His hair was soft. Hot breath bled through her nightgown and tickled her skin, and the weight of his body gave her a sense of security. 

Red tinged her whole body at the slow realization that...cuddly Loid wasn’t all that bad. In fact, embarrassingly, she quickly came to enjoy it.

With her free hand, Yor ran her fingers through Loid’s hair. His head twitched a little at her touch, then just as soon eased into it. A smile inched across Yor’s lips, and stayed there as she continued to stroke him. Loid’s breath became more even, even as Yor’s heart picked up by a beat or two. She feared her quickened pulse might wake him, but thankfully he was out like a light. So long as she didn't wake him, he wouldn’t.

And Yor wouldn’t; she accepted her fate and decided to take one for the team- though in reality she didn’t sacrifice much. A warm night intertwined with her husband. If that was really such a bad thing, well, Yor didn’t care much anyway.

She closed her eyes and, still smiling, continued to stroke Loid’s hair.

His head stayed limp against her chest, and it wasn’t long before Mr. and Mrs. Forger were both asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a cuddler.


	26. Re-encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay pokemon news dropped today and I have no will to edit so, take this for what it is.

Loid had anticipated coming back to this place at some point. He just didn’t think it would be so soon.

His daughter’s distant hums echoed faintly from the far end of the room as a familiar older lady went about taking her measurements. The proprietress of the tailor shop they’d frequented several times in the past was a nice lady, and Anya had grown fond of her. They chatted about some things, none of which were particularly interesting. Meanwhile Loid leaned against the counter and cast his gaze around absently while taking a breather after another long day of running missions.

He partly wanted to wait until tomorrow to get Anya measured, but ultimately willed himself to just get it over with.

She’d hit a growth spurt recently, and her clothes no longer fit properly. It was not a great inconvenience, but at the same time his mission was to keep up appearances; if the other students started pointing out that Anya’s clothes didn’t fit her, that may jeopardize her social standing and subsequently cast doubt on whether or not the Forgers were true Eden material or not.

Also, mostly, he didn’t want his daughter to get picked on at school.

So he sucked it up. A long day of missions was nothing new, and after Anya came home from school he took her straight over to the tailor shop- though not before giving Yor a call to let her know where they were. It probably wasn’t going to be long, he told her over the phone. In and out. At least, that was the hope.

That didn’t end up being the case. Apparently it was the busy season and people were getting measured and consulted left and right, so in that sense Loid’s gamble had failed to pay off. Tired already, his exhaustion slowly started to weigh on him until- when it was finally Anya’s turn- Loid leaned his back against the counter to catch his breath. Elbows up, head rolled forward, he gave Anya an absent wave as she and the proprietress went to go do their thing.

Left on his own, Loid cast absent glances all throughout the store. He tried to keep his mind sharp at least, even if the rest of him was feeling worn out. Something to keep him from remembering how tired he was- to take his mind off things-

-The jingle of a bell signaled someone’s arrival.

Loid groaned, thinking it to be another customer, but stopped when he looked up to find Yor standing there in the doorway. Coat draped over her arm, she gave the place a cursory scan and found Loid standing there. Yor smiled, and he did the same. She made her way over to him, and he automatically asked her about her day.

“It was alright, same old same old,” Yor replied chipperly. Her smile faded a bit when she inspected Loid a bit more closely. “You seem a bit tired, though.”

“A bit,” he downplayed. A steady sigh escaped him as he straightened a bit, though still he put all his weight on the counter.

Yor scrunched her face up a little. Her lips squiggled at the rough state she found her husband in, but said nothing else. She instead looked over to Anya and watched her make small talk with the proprietress, and Loid did the same. The two of them stared for a minute before Anya felt their eyes on her, and with her free hand the little girl waved. They waved back, then promptly looked away.

Loid, at other things. 

Yor, back down at Loid.

He was out of it. She didn’t particularly like that; he was more than welcome to his own thoughts, of course, but his divided attention seemed less his idea and more like life catching up with him. He always worked so hard, and many times he’d get burnt out. Yor didn’t like seeing him like that. She wanted to help take his mind off it, if only just this once.

Loid of course knew none of this. He was too busy doing...nothing in particular. A glaze filmed over his eyes as the seconds ticked by; he stared at the clock at the far end of the room and exhaled, hoping time would somehow skip ahead so they could all leave and he could finally take a nap. The proprietress seemed to be taking her sweet time though, so it’d probably be a while before that happened….

_ “...Sir, you’ve been staring at me since I walked in here.”  _

Loid’s eyes widened as he heard a stern voice admonish him suddenly. He blinked and immediately turned to focus on his wife. He found her right where he’d left her, a feigned cross expression painting her face as she stared down at him. Hands on her hips, she stood a bit taller than normal as if to get her point across- whatever point that may have been.

Loid tilted his head. “Yor-?”

“-Can I help you with something?” she cut him off. Still standing tall. Still stern-looking.

Somewhat, anyway. Loid could tell the corners of her lips trembled as if fighting back a smile, but for the life of him he had no idea why; at least not at first. His brow furrowed in thought as the cogs in his head started to creak back to their usual speed. For some reason Yor’s words sounded familiar. This whole scenario, in fact, seemed familiar. Was it deja vu? No…

The longer he looked at Yor the more he realized what was going on. What she was saying, and why. The barely hidden smile. The out-of-context admonishment. Why he felt like they’d already done this before; her standing there by the counter and him leaning against it, exhausted. In actuality, they had. 

Months ago, before they became a family.

Once Loid realized this, he suddenly didn’t feel all that tired anymore.

“Uh, no- I just thought...you were very pretty,” he replied back with a smirk. “Sorry.”

Yor’s eyes widened a bit; either she had forgotten what he said that first day in the tailor shop, or hearing him say it with a smirk on his face was all too much for her to handle. Either way, the ball had suddenly fallen in Loid’s court. He continued to look up at her and waited for her to respond, just as she had for him. The longer it took her the bigger his smile became, which in turn only made her all the more reluctant to speak up.

“So...you’re saying you have a-” Yor paused to quell her quickened pulse. “-positive impression of my appearance...?” 

Loid scanned his wife up and down, and the sight of him doing so set Yor’s cheeks aflame. “Yes.” 

There was no hesitation in his response, not at all like the day they first met. That singular thought made Yor’s whole body turn pure scarlet, and in turn made Loid’s smirk ease into a lop-sided grin. He pushed off the counter and stood tall for the first time, making Yor feel even smaller than she already did. Despite wanting to shrink away from him though, she forced herself to meet his gaze.

They were silent, instead saying all they needed to with just their expressions. Yor with her blood red cheeks and trembling smile, and Loid with his grin that only grew with increasing amusement. For a short moment it was just the two of them in that tailor shop, the joint memory of a moment in time keeping them focused only on each other.

Then, slowly, Loid remembered that it wasn’t just him and Yor.

It was the feeling of eyes on him that eventually rapt his attention away. Back towards where Anya and the proprietress were standing moments before, Loid glanced and found them staring back at him and Yor. He saw a look in their eyes, and his own grew wide; whereas his filled with surprise, theirs were clearly possessed of a different emotion. Several, in fact. The tape measure fell at the tailors’ side, signaling to Loid that they were finished.

He didn’t even wait to see his wife’s response when she realized the same thing. Yor’s jaw dropped. Anya’s opened to say something and- before she could get one word out- Loid cut her off. “Thank you for help, we’d...best be going now...”

Loid cleared his throat, and Yor hid her face. The latter said not a word as she went to retrieve her daughter; Anya didn’t make the walk any easier on her, seeing as how she was looking smug at her mama the whole way over. Still, she remained quiet as the two held hands and made their way to the door. Loid meanwhile stayed behind for a moment to fish out his wallet and pay the tailor for her services. She told him the price, he procured his checkbook, and as he wrote out her payment the lady smiled at him. 

“I think it’s wonderful how much you two love each other,” she commented with a warm smile, causing Loid to pause mid-rip.

He stayed frozen for a moment, then just as quickly carried on as usual. He handed the proprietress his check and nodded back. “Me too.”

Loid tipped his hat and bade the lady a good evening.

Then, after taking a deep breath, he made his way to the door to go meet his family outside.


	27. First kiss

“Papa, who was your first kiss?”

The question took Loid by surprise. The newspaper in his hands fell to reveal his face, and he tilted his head as if calculating an equation his daughter had just given him to solve. Meanwhile another head popped out from the kitchen, this one belonging to mama. Yor held a similar expression on her husband’s face, except her eyes filled with a bit more...intrigue.

“Pardon?” Loid asked, though his brow still furrowed in thought all the same.

“Who was your first kiss?” Anya repeated, dolls absently in-hand as she played on the couch. “Like, the first girl you ever kissed?”

A million different things flew through Loid’s head all at once, and it took a second for him to become coherent enough to give an actual response. “Why would you ask that?”

“Becky wanted to know,” Anya shrugged. “And me too.”

Loid’s eyes narrowed; that Blackbell girl was a horrible influence on his daughter. Part of him wanted to call her parents up right now, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen. No, Loid was too busy finding himself between a rock and a hard place. He suddenly felt eyes on him, and not just his daughter’s; he knew full well Yor was looking at him too, as the sound of dishes being washed had long since fell silent.

“I don’t remember,” Loid waived off, shaking his head. He hoped that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t. “Papa’s a liar!”

“I am not a liar,” Loid ground out, though even he knew that was rich coming out of his mouth. Anya certainly didn’t buy it, either. She continued to stare at him, an unamused look on her face as she waited for him to get on with his actual answer. Loid cringed. “I just...don’t seem to recall it-”

“-You don’t remember your first kiss?” Yor interjected, causing Loid to spin around in his chair. She flinched under his sudden gaze. “Was it...bad?”

Loid’s face turned red. “No, of course not-!”

“-So you _do_ remember it?” Anya added in. Loid spun around again and found the little girl stroking her chin as if having just busted the case wide open.

Loid suppressed a scream; he hated his wife and daughter at the moment.

“Okay _fine,_ ” Loid relented, not having the will to turn this into a drawn out interrogation. “It was a girl from school.”

“School!?” Anya gaped. “Like my school!?”

“ _High school,_ Anya,” Loid corrected flatly. As if even he had the bravado to kiss a girl in elementary.

Anya made an ‘ah’ face and nodded her head. Loid hoped that would be the end of it. He’d answered her question- truthfully, in fact- and saw no reason to keep the conversation going. For once though, it seemed, he’d made a terrible miscalculation; he had forgotten all about Mrs. Forger.

“...How was it?” she asked meekly, again causing Loid to spin back around. 

He found Yor there red as a cherry, the shade matching her house sweater that she wore everyday. Loid hesitated. “I-it was fine. I don’t think I ever saw her again after that-?”

“Was she your girlfriend?” Yor asked, tilting her head. A look of surprise swept over her face, which only grew when Loid slowly shook his head. “She wasn’t!?”

“Wow!” Anya commented in amazement, which earned her a look over papa’s shoulder. She’d never seen his face so red before. “Papa’s playing the field!”

That Blackbell girl was going to get a stern talking-to, that was for sure. 

Loid did his best to compose himself, but that ended up being very hard to do when both his wife and daughter had him cornered. He tried to pick up and resume reading his newspaper, but that didn’t last very long, either.

“I had no idea, Loid.” Again rapt from his reading, Loid looked to Yor and found her twiddling her fingers while staring down at them with frazzled lips. 

“No idea what?” he asked, distraught. Loid was starting to feel like he’d just confessed to a murder or something.

“That you were so….” Yor trailed off. In an instant, all of the things their neighbors had said about Loid going off and fraternizing with other ladies filled her head. Her face grew even more red. “...experienced.”

“Yor!” Loid exclaimed. He again flashed a look to Anya and found her staring at mama and papa, eating everything up like one of those soap operas on TV. Loid cringed. “Yor, it’s nothing like that. I was a teenager. It was forever ago. It meant nothing!”

Why did he suddenly feel like he was on the chopping block? Him and Yor weren’t _actually_ married, nor did he do anything wrong (it’s not like he had a girlfriend at the time and cheated on her or anything) but it certainly felt like it at that moment. Loid continued to gape at his wife, who in turn finally managed to look up and meet his gaze. 

“So, you wouldn’t…?” she squeaked out. Loid held his breath. “...You’ve never-?”

Yor hung on the question and the sight of her husband. She held there as long as she could before abandoning them both, electing to just keep quiet and stare down at the floor. The cogs in Loid’s head finally began to turn, and in his ever-analytic brain he came to a fast conclusion.

He figured he knew the source of Yor’s worries. Before they had a chance to reignite, Loid went to smother them outright. “I am a married man with a wife and daughter, and I would never do anything to jeopardize that.”

Yor’s eyes widened a bit. She stared at Loid, and he stared back. She stayed silent for a moment then, eventually, nodded back slowly. Loid tried to offer her a smile, but she didn’t go for it; Yor simply turned around and made her way back into the kitchen. The sound of dishes being washed erupted once more, and Loid could only shake his head and sigh.

“Watch TV,” he told Anya without looking. The latter nodded.

Loid got up and walked briskly over to the kitchen. There he found Yor hunched over the sink, tackling caked-on grease in a vain attempt to take her mind off things. Loid frowned.

“I’m not lying,” he tried to persuade her again. He kept his voice hushed so as to keep Anya from hearing. “You’re my wife. I have no interest in going around acting like a teenager.”

“...Even if you and I don’t-?” The words trickled out of her lips, though she couldn’t bring herself to say that last part. 

Loid fell silent as the dishes came to a halt again. He could tell how torn up she was about all this, and he figured he knew why; Yor had never so much as dated anyone, let alone kissed a man. Maybe it was weird to hear about him going around kissing girls when she didn’t even know what that was like in the first place. It wasn’t bad, but then again it wasn’t necessarily good either. 

Fake marriage or not he was still her husband, and she was his wife.

He could understand that, at least a little bit- at least enough to know how to fix things, regardless of whether or not it was truly in the best interest of Operation Strix. Even if it wasn’t, Loid steeled himself when Yor turned to face him. The frown on her face was heavy, almost as much as his heart at the sight of her like that. He had to fix things, and fast. 

And so he did, in the only way he knew how.

It was fast; just a simple little peck on the cheek.

He could tell from the way Yor flinched that she felt it before actually seeing him swoop in, but by the time she realized what was going on he was already pulling away. A hand immediately came to cup the spot where his lips touched her skin, and Yor’s entire body turned every shade of red imaginable. Her eyes grew wide. Her jaw hung open. She was thunderstruck.

Loid smiled, if only to hide his own scarlet cheeks. “There. Now if anyone ever asks, the first kiss you ever had came from your husband.”

Yor was frozen. Loid waited for her to say something, anything, but as the seconds ticked by without a peep out of her he feared he may have overstepped his boundaries. Quickly the legitimate fear of an angry Yor Forger loomed over him, and Loid gulped at the thought of being taken out by his insanely strong fake wife.

But that didn’t end up happening. Instead, after what felt like an eternity, Yor finally gave a response. Her trembling lips worked their way into a smile, and she gave him a tiny nod. Before he knew it, she was already turning the water back on to finish the dishes. Her long hair dangled down and obscured the rest of her face from him, but her smile remained.

Loid blinked; he was relieved at the fact that there would be no bloodbath, yet at the same time he was kind of hoping for...more. A conversation, perhaps, or even just a couple words from her? He was half-tempted to say something else, but in the end simply resigned himself to leave Yor alone with the dishes. 

He started to make his way towards the living room, but paused as soft words suddenly filled his ears.

“Thank you, Loid.”

He didn’t turn around, nor did he say ‘you’re welcome’. All Loid did was glance over his shoulder to find Yor doing the same to him, and with one last exchange of smiles the two parted. 

Nothing else was said on the matter, and there was no more talk in the Forger house about first kisses.

Also, Becky Blackbell did indeed get a stern talking to the following day.


	28. Pregnancy

Soft lights. The smell of cigarette smoke. A constant chatter of patrons in the background.

The bar was lively that afternoon. For what reason, Twilight couldn’t say. Perhaps, for once, fate was throwing him a bone; it was the perfect opportunity for someone to walk in unnoticed. Anyone could come through that front door and immediately be drowned out by the constant shuffle of bodies. As a spy, he always kept an eye out for such openings. 

Such was the case now, though not for him. He was already sitting down at the counter, sipping on a rocks glass half-filled with scotch as he made small talk with the bartender. Partway through the conversation he could feel a familiar pair of eyes on him, and at that point he turned around to glance at the entrance. 

There he found a scruff of black hair and red-framed glasses searching for him. 

For a moment he could recognize an expression on his friend’s face he wasn’t used to seeing; uncertainty.

Twilight waved down Franky. It took him a second to see, but when he did the man’s face returned to its usual cheshire grin. Coat draped over his arm, Franky walked over as Twilight pulled out the chair next to him. Franky sat down, but not before placing his coat on the back of the chair and revealing a small wooden box he’d been hiding beneath it. 

Twilight tilted his head as Franky placed it in front of him. “Got you something.”

Raising a brow, Twilight went to inspect it. He kind of already knew what it was; there were few situations where one would come across a wooden box with a sliding compartment, engraved with a fancy-looking emblem no less. Still, he opened it anyway. A sigh escaped him as he eyed four rather large cigars still-wrapped in their sleeves, yet a smirk overcame him regardless.

He looked to Franky, and the latter shrugged. “Considering the occasion, they seemed appropriate.”

“You do know that I don’t smoke outside of spy work, right?” Twilight replied, though that didn’t stop him from fishing out two of the cigars from the box.

Franky took one of them from Twilight’s hand and bit off the sleeve. “I’m aware.”

Twilight mirrored him. As the bartender came around, he signaled for a light. The man nodded and procured from his back pocket a lighter. Twilight’s was lit first; cupping his hand over the end where the fire was, he sucked in enough until the cinders caught and smoke started to funnel out. He exhaled, and a bigger cloud formed. Franky was immediately next.

Once the bartender was done, Franky asked for a round- same as his friend’s- and the bartender obliged. He went to go fashion a drink, leaving the two men there to puff on their cigars in silence for a bit. They listened to the chatter in the background, not really paying attention to any of it but finding it an appropriate warmup for the coming conversation between them. 

It wasn’t long before the bartender returned with Franky’s scotch. He thanked the man, and it once more became just him and Twilight. With alcohol in-hand, he suddenly found the strength to ask the question that had been on the tip of his tongue since walking in.

“How are you?”

Twilight leaned back. “Great.”

“Is that a sarcastic great, or an actual great?”

“Great,” Twilight repeated, this time with a half-grin.

Frankly snorted. He shook his head and took another puff of his cigar, then washed it down with some scotch. Loid did the same; another reset. The ice was broken now. 

“Heard your handler did a number on you,” Franky smirked into his glass. “I’m surprised you don’t have any bruises.”

“I did,” Twilight replied flatly. The admission caused Franky to snicker. “They don’t call her the Fullmetal Lady for nothing.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Franky feigned ignorance, shrugging with exaggeration. “Clearly you’ve devoted yourself to the mission, and you’ve even come up with the perfect cover.”

“Oh, yes, because this was clearly intentional,” Twilight shot back, un-enthused. He flashed Franky a flat look, and the latter did the same.

“So you’re saying it  _ was  _ a mistake?” Franky asked pointedly. 

Immediately, the air shifted. Twilight straightened. Franky realized his mistake and looked away; even he knew that was uncalled for. Twilight didn’t make a stink over it, though. Given the situation, neither or them really knew what to say to the other. Instead of taking it personally, the man of the hour resigned himself to another drink. Franky did the same, and after a couple more puffs of their cigars they reconvened.

“How’s Anya?”

“Good.” Twilight’s eyes twisted. “She’s ecstatic.”

“Figured she would be,” Franky grinned. “She’s a good kid like that.”

“If that’s what you want to call it-” Twilight motioned to the bartender for another round. “-Honestly I think she just wants someone to play with.”

“It’s not another toy, I’m pretty sure she knows that,” Franky chuckled. “Give the kid some credit; she’s smarter than she looks.”

As the bartender returned with two fresh glasses, Twilight nodded. He thanked the man, and at the same time let a smile cut across his face, too. “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

Franky held up his own glass. “I always am.”

Twilight rolled his eyes, yet toasted with Franky all the same. Their glasses clinked against one another and they both went to sip their fire water. The mix of smoke and scotch burned their throats, but it was a pleasant sort of pain; the kind that gets etched into your soul as a memory, where years on down the road it could be remembered over fondly.

In that sense, nostalgia seemed the theme of the evening. As the two sat and chatted, recollections of the past started to bubble up along with the alcohol. Past shenanigans, missions, and all the time they’d spent together over the years. That included everything that had happened throughout Operation Strix; a mission that, for all intents and purposes, had changed everything. Not just between them, but for the persona of Twilight in general.

Westalis’ greatest spy- the  _ world’s  _ greatest spy- was still neck-deep in the toughest mission of his career...and pretty soon it was only to get a whole lot tougher.

“Yor,” Franky piped up suddenly, causing Twilight to turn rigid. “How’s she holding up?”

It took a moment for the man to respond. He removed the cigar from his mouth and looked down at his glass. Twilight’s mouth hung open as if there were words there waiting to be said, but the will to say them came slowly. Finally, after composing himself for a moment, he smiled.

“She’s great. A little sick in the mornings and every once in a while she’ll demand something odd for dinner, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Franky smiled back. “Yeah? You sure about that?”

“For the moment, yes,” Twilight chuckled. “We’ll see how much I regret those words in the next few months, I suppose.”

“Well, for your sake I hope it’s a boy,” Franky replied. He took a sip from his glass and his smile grew bigger. “One more girl in that house and I’m pretty sure you’ll go insane.”

“For once I agree with you,” Twilight nodded. The expression on his face was one Franky had never seen on him before, and it actually took him by surprise.

He seemed happy. 

Truly, honestly happy.

On the one hand it didn’t suit him at all; the Twilight he knew was a smug asshole who lorded over him with the amount of women he’d slept with  _ for the mission.  _ On the other hand, though...Franky had to admit he much preferred seeing his friend this way. He was more calm. Something about it just felt right. Maybe that motherly glow people always talked about was rubbing off Yor and onto him.

“So I take it you have a plan?” Franky inquired, to which Twilight immediately nodded.

“Nothing’s changed. Desmond needs to be dealt with, regardless of my personal life.”

That wasn’t up for debate. Twilight still knew this, thankfully. “Okay, so Operation Strix is still a-go….but what about after?”

This time, it took Twilight longer to respond. He said nothing at first, electing instead to reach over for the ash tray to smother his cigar with. Twilight then grabbed his scotch and, in one drink, killed what remained of his glass. Franky raised a brow as Twilight took a deep breath; then, after all that, he finally gave his answer.

He turned to Franky, and gave a smile. “Handler didn’t smack me just because of the baby.”

Franky’s eyes widened; he knew right away what Twilight was saying.

His friend continued to smile at him, and the longer he stared at it the more he felt one inch across his own face, too. Franky didn’t know why, though; why smile when your friend was admitting to quitting the game he’d played his whole life? He couldn’t fathom it- both Twilight’s answer and his own reaction to it.

He wanted to ask more. He wanted to know all the details, specifically whether or not Twilight realized exactly what he was doing. Everything was happening so much, so fast, that Franky didn’t even know where to start. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he even got the chance to he was cut off by his friend.

“-It’s getting late,” Twilight cautioned. “And we’ve been here a while.”

At that moment, Franky remembered the situation; even a humble bar like this could be crawling with SSS informants. A harmless drink between friends wasn’t very conspicuous, but the longer they stayed the more likely they were at being discovered. Even during a moment like this with talk of retirement, he and Twilight were still neck-deep in the spy game. 

Plus, knowing his friend, he probably wanted to fill him in on the details later.

Franky nodded. In an instant, they were packed; Twilight fetched the cigar box and Franky his coat, and both of them settled up their tabs. As casually as possible, they made their way to the door and dodged incoming patrons. With one last scan on the way out, they made their exit; out into the slowly growing darkness of the evening. 

Out in the street, they said their farewells.

“We’ll meet up again soon,” Twilight assured Franky. The latter nodded.

“Your place, preferably,” the scruffy man added. “I’ve yet to see the mother-to-be.”

Twilight straightened a bit at Franky’s word choice, which earned him an amused cackle. “Fair enough.”

The two nodded at one another and- in sync- they took their leave. Both men walked towards opposite ends of the street and disappeared around the corner without looking back...or at least one of them did. The other stopped just before disappearing; adjusting his glasses, he stared at his friend’s back one last time as he walked away.

For some reason, Franky felt like he’d just said goodbye for the last time. Not that Twilight was in any danger or anything (no SSS or enemy agent alive could catch that man), but rather in the sense that...Twilight didn’t seem like Twilight anymore. Not the spy he knew, anyway. Not WISE’s best agent, the guy they always depended on to come through for them in the end. He was muted. He was more at ease. He was  _ different _ .

He was...more like Loid Forger. 

The thought made Franky smirk; so much for waiting until the mission was over.

With a shake of his head, he spun on his heels and finally headed back home. It was a long night, and after a bombshell evening like that Franky needed to catch some z’s. Besides, there were some things he needed to take care of before going to bed...

...Like figuring out what to get the kid for a baby shower gift.

Preferably, something loud and annoying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hell of a month- a lot of highs and lows, but watching it go makes me somber. I definitely had fun writing all of these; I've never done anything like this before, so writing a fic a day for 4 weeks straight was really a personal accomplishment that I am quite proud of. I want to personally thank Bluwwo for coming up with the prompts for Fluffbruary (read her fics she's awesome) and everyone who actually took the time to read all of these- you're the best. Thank you all again, and I'll see you all next year!


End file.
